Making My Name
by Caley3324
Summary: The daughter of Zach and Cammie and her love at Blackthorne.  Better than it sounds. Promise.
1. Chapter 1

1.

Something was wrong.

Even in my sleep, I could sense it. It was just that feeling that spies get; the feeling that someone is watching you. I slowly opened my eyes, but the pitch black didn't tell me anything. I could still feel the warm sheets around me and smell the Glade Plug-In of my room. But something was off.

A hand came down on my leg to keep me from kicking, another hand went over my mouth, and the intruder's body kept my arms from moving. I was about to bite him when the voice reached my ear, low and tenor. "Bite me and I'll bite you back. _Hard_."

I smiled as the hand uncovered my mouth. "Hey, Nate."

I felt him crawl into the bed beside me, one arm around my waist and the other arm under my head. I could smell his sweet cologne and his shampoo and feel his warm breath on my neck. It felt so right, and I immediately closed my eyes to revel in it for as long as I could. His breath tickled my ear, "School starts in a week."

"Yeah," I said. "Senior year. Can you even believe it?"

He chuckled softly. "Yeah, I can. Soon, we'll be out in the real world."

My voice was dreamy. "Can't wait."

He exhaled a laugh. "Terrorists, here we come."

I laughed under my breath. "And we'll still move in together, right?"

I felt him nod against my shoulder. "Absolutely. I mean, if you're not too worried about your parents." We had kept our relationship a secret from _everyone_. My roommates, my parents, my aunt and uncle…everyone in the spy business. No one knew that we had even met. It had been at the mall one day and…well…we got close. At first, I pushed him away all the time, but he somehow broke all of my carefully built barriers down. He was the one I trusted without a shadow of a doubt. He was the one that knew me the best, even over my family and best friends.

Spies keep secrets. "They won't find out."

"And if they do?"

"Then they do," I replied confidently. "I'll be eighteen; a legal adult. They can't do anything about it."

I could feel him smile against my neck. "I love you, Layla Goode."

"And I love you, Nathan Rivers."

He began to trail feather-light kisses down my neck, along my jaw line. The hand that had been around my waist began to move up and down my side slowly, making me shiver. "Nate," I whispered.

"Yeah?"

"How hard was it to get in here?"

He moved my hair and kissed my neck. "Not too bad. It took me about an hour and a half to hack the security system."

"_You_ hacked it?" I asked. Nate was an incredible spy, but hacking wasn't his strong suit. And my parents were very cautious about their security system.

"Well," he admitted. "I tried to at first, for about forty-nine minutes, and then I just called Seth."

I smiled. Seth Newberry was an absolute genius, and he was one of Nate's roommates. "I see."

"He says 'hi'."

I exhaled a laugh. "Good. Tell him 'hi' for me. It's been a while."

I had met all of Nate's roommates –Seth, James, and Landon – when Nate had brought them with him to the mall one day. I never did find out where they stayed during the summer, but Nate never seemed to have a problem getting to my house, so I didn't press him about it. I knew that he went on a lot of summer missions, so that meant that the other boys did, too.

"Will do," Nate said, still kissing my neck.

"I guess he didn't mind you bothering him at two in the morning?"

I felt his smile against my skin. "He was already up, cracking some new NSA codes. He was actually happy for the break."

"Those codes are getting harder and harder," I agreed.

"I don't bore myself with NSA codes," Nate told me. "I have other things to occupy my time." He moved his arm so that I rolled to face him and he pressed his lips firmly to mine. I kissed him back, moving my hands up to run my fingers through his messy dark brown hair.

He pulled away and began to kiss my neck again, biting down. "Nate," I warned. "Don't leave any marks."

"But what if I _want_ to mark you as mine?" he said against my skin, biting harder.

I bit my lip to contain my moan of pleasure. When I could open it again, I said, "My dad would kill you if he knew. And don't you dare say that he couldn't, because he trained at Blackthorne, too."

"I know," Nate said. Then he moved his mouth to whisper sexily in my ear. "But I'm not scared."

I shivered and pulled Nate down to kiss me. We made out until four in the morning, kissing until we couldn't breathe, talking, and then kissing again. Finally, he said he needed to go and I knew that it was true – because my parents always got up at five – but I didn't want him to go. I pulled him back down to me for another kiss, giving him full access to my mouth.

He pulled away with a smile, "I love you, Layla."

"I love you, too," I whispered, not wanting him to go.

"I'll see you soon," he promised.

"How?" I pouted. "School starts in a week and you already told me that you have to go on a job tomorrow."

"I'll be back before school starts," he promised. "One last time. And then we have winter break," he said suggestively, making butterflies go wild in my stomach. We hadn't had sex yet, but over winter break (right after I'd turn 18) I was going to spend winter break with him. I hadn't yet picked what I was going to tell my parents, but I knew that I'd figure it out.

"And then another semester," I said.

"And then you'll move in with me," he said.

I smiled. "I love that part."

He kissed me again. "Me too. Be safe, okay? I'll be back soon."

"Okay."

He kissed me again, deeply. When he broke away, he gave me a smile that took the remainder of my breath away. "I love you."

"I love you."

He headed for my window and disappeared in the blink of an eye. I smiled to myself as I went to close the window.

Nathan Rivers was the best young spy-in-training that I knew.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sweetie?" my mother asked, reaching across the limo to put her hand on my knee.

I gave her a very convincing smile. After all, spies lie. Even to our own family. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just…it's my senior year. Last year at Gallagher and…"

She cut me off. "Oh, Sweetie! I know! But just think, the CIA already wants you to work for them; you basically have a job! But you've just grown up so fast…" she began to tear up.

"Cammie," my dad interrupted softly. "She's gonna be okay."

My mom nodded, but with tears still in her eyes, "I know; I know."

My dad gave me a smirk. I had inherited my smirk, my confidence, and my green eyes from him. The rest of my facial features were my mom's, and I also had her light brown hair. My dad said, "At least we've managed to get here this far without her getting attached to boys."

My mom laughed and so did I, keeping my cover well. "Oh, Dad," I said.

He gave me a look. "I'm completely serious. If any boys even try to _touch_ you…"

I remembered Nate's soft, gentle touch and somehow kept the blush off of my face and the fear out of my eyes. Instead, I just rolled my eyes and said, "Come on, Dad. I'm not a little girl anymore."

"You're my little girl," he argued. "And if you ever bring a guy home, he better be pretty damn impressive."

_He is_, I thought to myself, but of course I didn't say that out loud. "Whatever, Dad."

The limo pulled up to Gallagher and before I could even move, my door opened and I squinted into the sunlight. "Oh my gosh, you are _not_ going to believe this, Layla!"

"Hey, Beth," I said as I stepped out of the limo to get a good look at my best friend. Her dark hair was long and glossy, her brown eyes dark with excitement. "What am I not going to believe?"

"Hello, Beth," my mom said as she got out of the limo, followed by my dad.

"Hi, Mrs. Goode," Beth said before her attention turned to me again. "Jamie got a boyfriend!"

My mouth fell open. "Jamie? Like, our _roommate_ Jamie?"

Beth nodded. "I told you that you wouldn't believe it! Okay, so you know how she did that internship at CIA headquarters this summer?" I nodded and Beth continued, "Well, she met a Blackthorne guy there and they got close and now they're _dating_!"

"A Blackthorne guy?" my dad interjected. "Which one?"

"Don't eavesdrop, Dad," I teased.

He waited for his answer until Beth said, "His name's Carl."

"Carl Blakenship?" My dad asked. I rolled my eyes. My dad was the CoveOps teacher at Blackthorne, so of course he'd know.

Beth nodded. I sighed, "So, she finally got her first kiss?"

Beth squealed as she nodded. "_Finally_ she catches up!"

"Whoa," my dad said. "You two have had your first kiss? Layla?"

My mom and dad were both giving me an amused/curious look and I gave a nervous laugh as I began to back away, grabbing Beth's arm. "She was totally kidding. Right, Beth?"

"Absolutely," Beth nodded solemnly. "It was just, you know, Jamie's so shy naturally that just the thought of her kissing a guy is-"

"Weird," I helped her. "Very weird. So, we're going to go unpack. Help me with my bags, Beth?"

We each grabbed two of my suitcases and headed away as fast as we possibly could. "That was close," I muttered.

"So who _was_ your first kiss?" Beth asked. "You never told me."

_Nate_. "Um…that guy. From London, remember? Last winter break?"

Beth's mouth fell open. "You _kissed_ him? He was cute," she congratulated. "Get his number?"

"He's from London, Beth."

"_I'm_ from London, too."

I smiled, "I'm just saying that that kind of long-distance relationship wouldn't work out."

"True," she said as we entered our suite. Jamie was already inside, sitting on her bed and typing on her laptop. "I hear you've got a boyfriend," I said as I set my suitcases down and Beth did the same.

Jamie laughed as she got up to give me a hug. "Yeah."

"What's the story?"

Beth and I listened while Jamie told the story about how they'd met and gotten closer. At the very end of the story, Sarah came in. "Aw, man," Beth said. "You'll have to start all over, Jamie."

"I've already heard the Carl story," Sarah said with a smirk. "Jamie and I were both here yesterday."

"Oh."

Jamie finished her story and then we all talked about what we got to do over the summer. Beth had gone with her parents –Bex and Grant – on a mission and Jamie had been at the CIA headquarters all summer. Sarah had gifts for all of us from her summer of traveling the world of fashion with her mother. I told them that my summer was really boring and I received sympathetic looks.

It was times like that when I wanted to tell them everything about Nate. How his ice blue eyes melted mine or how his lips were always so soft. How he was the only one that had ever seen me cry since I was thirteen and how his strong arms felt so right around me. I wanted to tell them everything, but I always ended up biting my tongue and holding it back. Sarah, Beth, and Jamie were my best friends, but I just couldn't tell them. I couldn't.

We all stood to head down for dinner and Beth said, "Aren't you guys just so sad that it's senior year?"

Everybody began talking all at once and Jamie ended up crying, so we all had to comfort her. Finally, we made it down to the Grand Hall where my dad was waiting. "Go ahead," I told my friends and they left.

"Just wanted to wish you a happy senior year," my dad said as he hugged me.

"Thanks," I told him.

He pulled away and nodded his head to the huge front doors. "The helicopter's waiting for me."

My dad always saw my mother and I off to Gallagher, and then he would head to Blackthorne on a helicopter. "You better go, then," I smiled.

He reached out and touched my cheek. "You're not a little girl anymore, Layla. That breaks my heart."

"Dad," I said softly, trying to tease him.

He smiled. "But, you're strong."

"I learned from the best."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Love you, too, Dad."


	3. Chapter 3

3.

My roommates and I were about to unpack our bags when my mother came in, a small smile on her face that told me she had a surprise. Maybe not a great one, but a surprise all the same. "Hello, girls. How was your summer?"

We all mumbled replies and waited for her to tell us what was going on. She sighed. "Don't unpack your bags, girls."

We gave her questioning looks and she smiled at us encouragingly. "Our school is doing and exchange with Blackthorne this year."

"But why do we have to…"

"Because _we're_ going _there_," I answered Beth for my mom.

She smiled at me. "That's right. Four students from each grade will be sent to Blackthorne. You four are the senior class."

"Why do we have to do this our _senior_ year?" Sarah asked. "I mean, I'm sure Megan and Lindsey would like to go-"

"You were the ones chosen," my mother answered calmly, taking a seat on the edge of Sarah's bed.

"But why…."

I interrupted Jamie. "Because of my name. The daughter of a Morgan and a Goode, I'm sure they're just waiting for the chance to show me up."

My mother gave me a sad smile. "Unfortunately, yes, Layla; I believe that is the case."

"We'll show _them_!" Beth said.

"Hell yeah!" Sarah added.

Jamie nodded and I smiled. "Let's go to Blackthorne, ladies."

My mother stood, beaming at us all. "Fight hard, girls. Layla, your father will be your CoveOps teacher, but…"

"He can't be biased," I cut in. "I figured that much."

She came to me and brushed my light bangs back from my face. "You'll do great, sweetie."

"Well, duh," I said, giving the smirk my dad had passed to me. "I'm a Morgan and a Goode."

Everyone laughed and my mother said, "That's my girl. The helicopter for you four leaves in thirty minutes."

She hugged me and kissed my forehead before leaving. Beth was the first one to speak, "Well, let's go kick some guy spy butt."

We all laughed and gathered our bags. "It'll feel so weird," Jamie said as we headed down the stairs. "I mean, to be at some weird school for our senior year."

We all agreed. Sarah set her bags down by the doors and looked at me expectantly. "So, what's the plan, Chameleon?'

Everyone looked at me. When we ran any kind of op, I was always the leader. I sighed, "Well, we're gonna get there late, so everyone will probably already be in bed. I say that after we're clear, we explore the grounds, just to get our bearings."

They all nodded and Beth opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of helicopter blades interrupted us. We went out to the helicopter with our bags and got in. The ride was completely silent as Jamie cried, Beth slept, Sarah stared out the window and I planned. There was no way I was going to get shown up by a bunch of Blackthorne guys…

Oh my God.

I gasped.

_Nate_ was a Blackthorne guy. He'd be there. I was glad I'd get to see him, but I was afraid that the secret would get out…

Luckily, no one had heard me gasp. I reached up and touched the delicate yet strong silver chain and pulled it up until the ring came up from under my shirt. Nate had given me a promise ring only a couple of months earlier, and I had worn it on a chain around my neck ever since.

I smiled, thinking of him and of how we were going to have a lot more opportunities to see each other now that we'd be going to the same school. Of course, we'd have to keep it secret, so I'd probably have a lot of really late nights…oh, well. He was worth it.

We landed at Blackthorne and were ushered inside by none other than my father. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked him as we walked up a staircase.

He flashed me his signature smirk. _Our_ signature smirk. "Where's the fun in that, Layla?"

I rolled my eyes and my roommates and I followed him to our rooms. There four simple beds, a bathroom, and four doors that led to four small closets. Sarah gasped when she saw it. "This room needs major color!"

My dad held back a laugh. "It's standard protocol. Now, here are your schedules." He handed us each a sheet of paper. "I suspect that at least _one_ of you wants to go wandering the halls to figure out your surroundings and that's fine; just don't wake anybody up."

Beth shot me a look that said, 'man, he's good'. I gave her a slight nod with a smirk on my face.

"Your beds need to be made each morning and your rooms need to be spotless," my dad continued.

Beth looked like she was in a living nightmare.

"Breakfast starts at seven sharp. Set your alarms. Understood?"

We all nodded.

He smiled. "Good. Goodnight, ladies."

"'Night," we all replied.

Once the door was shut behind my dad, everyone looked at me. "What now?"

"Unpack," I said.

We spent thirty minutes unpacking in such a way that we wouldn't have to clean much. Then, we worked out a cleaning system and then I led them all out into the hall. Jamie walked with her laptop, trying to hack into the Blackthorne system and the rest of us kept a sharp eye out. I –in particular – was looking for any dead-giveaway-secret-passageway-entrances. Nate had told me that there were several and I wanted to find them. Secret passageways ran in my blood.

Eventually, Jamie got far enough into the system to find a good guide mad (floor plan) and we went back to our room. I volunteered to take my shower the next morning, as did Jamie, so Sarah and Beth took theirs. I laid down in my fairly comfortable bed in my comfy pajamas and wondered what the morrow would bring.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

I was the first one up the next morning and I quickly jumped in the shower. After my shower, I changed into one of my Gallagher uniforms, scrunched my hair, and applied light makeup. By the time that I got out of the bathroom, Jamie was wanting in and Beth and Sarah were just starting to wake up. I looked over my schedule as they grumbled about having to get up. The girls and I had already compared schedules, so I knew that I didn't have them in any of my classes. They were separating us so that our weaknesses would be evident.

Finally, everyone was ready and we headed down to the dining hall, earning curious looks from a bunch of guys. Beth and Sarah loved it. Beth had always gotten a lot of attention because beauty ran in her genes, and Sarah was the same story. I was beautiful, but I never tried hard enough to match them.

We took a seat with other Gallagher Girls and ate silently, doing our best to ignore the stares of guys. Jamie was typing away furiously on her laptop. "I'm seriously nervous about this, guys. I'm trying to figure out as much as I can about the teachers, but…"

"We're supposed to be speaking Farsi," Sarah reminded her in Farsi.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot," Jamie replied in English. "Anyway, the only one we know is your dad, Layla. The rest of them have records, but I can't hack into them. Not yet, anyways." She gave her determined smile, which made me smile.

"We'll be fine," Beth said. "By the way, there is a _total_ hottie right behind you, Layla. He's pretending not to notice us."

Sarah looked. "Whoa. He's not a hottie. He's a Greed _god_."

I found the nearest reflective surface and saw who they were talking about. _Nate_. "Oh; I guess."

"You guess?" Beth asked, shocked. "So, does that mean I can have dibs on him?"

I felt jealousy in the pit of my stomach. "You saw him first. Aren't those the rules?"

She laughed, "Right you are."

"Maybe he'll be in one of your classes," Sarah suggested.

"That would be so bloody great."

"Aren't we supposed to be speaking Farsi?"

Sarah and Beth sighed and went back to eating silently. My mind began to whir. _I need an excuse, I need an excuse, I need an excuse…_ "I forgot a pencil," I said, standing up.

"You can borrow one of mine," Jamie said in Farsi, still typing on her laptop.

"I'll just go get one," I said. "Catch you guys later."

They all replied and then I left the hall, hoping. Instead of heading for my room, I headed for a back hallway, my heart pounding in my ears. I turned a corner and there he was, suddenly, leaning against the wall, smiling. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Nate!" I ran into his arms and he held me tightly, whispering into my hair, "It's good to see you."

"You too," I said as I pulled away, unable to stop smiling.

His expression turned somber. "This is going to be hard, Layla. For us to keep the secret."

"I know," I nodded. "But we can do it. Just…pretend we don't know each other."

He nodded. "So if I say anything bad about you…"

"I won't be offended," I said with a light laugh. "Same for me?"

He nodded, "Of course." And then he was pulling me into a kiss and I forgot all of my worries. When he pulled away, he said, "Do you know how to get to your first class?"

I nodded. "The girls and I wandered around last night to get our bearings."

"Sounds good," he said, kissing me again. "How 'bout we meet up later?"

"How much later?"

He kissed me again. "I'm thinkin' midnight. Will your girls be asleep by then?"

"Yeah," I said.

He said, "Seth, James and Landon already know about you, but I've instructed them to act as if they've never met you. They won't breathe a word to anyone."

"Okay."

He kissed me again. "See you tonight."

"Where?" I asked.

He contemplated for a moment. "How 'bout a secret passageway?"

I nodded eagerly.

"The third night in the east hallway, first floor," he said. "Lift the visor of his helmet up."

I nodded. "Got it. Left or right side?"

"Left. See you there?"

I nodded and let him kiss me one more time before he left. I looked at my watch. It was a long time to go before midnight.

My classes weren't hard and I could tell that the teachers were impressed by my knowledge. I made sure to pay close attention and even take notes so that I couldn't be shown up. CoveOps was easy, seeing as we were just working on disguises, which Mr. Solomon had already taught us at Gallagher. My dad gave me a smile of approval, but of course, he didn't voice it.

Back in our room, we all worked on homework and went to bed because we were all so tired. At eleven-thirty, my watch vibrated, waking me up. I smiled as I slipped into jeans, tennis shoes, and a hoodie over my T-shirt.

I found the night without any trouble and flipped the visor up, watching as a section of the wall slid back to reveal a staircase. I smiled as I followed it up and listened to the wall close back behind me. There were thirty-two steps that led to a small room. There was a fireplace and a large chair in the room, and Nate stood by the fireplace, stoking the fire.

He turned when I came in and smiled, "Hey there."

"Where's the smoke go?" I asked, pointing to the fire.

He shrugged. "I don't know. It gets out somehow, I just don't really know. Seth tried to follow it once, but we lost it."

I walked up to him, wrapped my arms around him, and kissed him as passionately as I could. He returned it with just as much passion and when we both needed breath, he pulled away and kissed my neck. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," I whispered.

We spent all night in that little room, talking and kissing and wasting the night away.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

"Miss Goode, were you paying attention at all?"

I snapped out of my daydream and looked at Mr. Carter, the strict, middle aged martial arts instructor. His onyx eyes were staring me down, but I was too tired to stare back or even think straight. I had been out far too late the previous night with Nate. "Yes, Mr. Carter."

"What did I just get through saying?" he challenged.

The words were out of my mouth before I could even process them. "You said: 'Miss Goode, were you paying attention at all?'."

There were snickers from all over the small gym. Mr. Carter's face turned bright red in anger. "Miss Goode," he said, "I do not need your cheek!"

The snickers stopped altogether and I felt scared. Everyone was obviously scared of him. And there had to be a good reason for that. Mr. Carter approached me and I desperately wished that a Gallagher Girl was beside me to back me up. Mr. Carter leaned down and spoke in a dangerous voice. "Do you have any idea what we do here at Blackthorne for punishment?"

I gulped and shook my head, feeling my spine tingle like it always did when I sensed danger. Mr. Carter gave a smile that made me visibly shiver. "You don't?"

"Mr. Carter." The voice was clearly Nate's. "Would that be fair? I mean, she clearly didn't know."

"And how else would she learn, Mr. Rivers?"

"What Nate's trying to say," Landon –Nate's roommate and best friend – broke in, "Is that maybe we should just give her a warning this time."

_The punishment must be really bad._

I tried to think of what it could be. At Gallagher, I had never been punished before. Blackthorne was much stricter than Gallagher, though, and the teachers didn't seem to genuinely care for their students like ours did.

"A warning?" Mr. Carter looked as if that idea was ludicrous. "Absolutely not. We don't want people to think that I'm going soft now, do we?"

"Mr. Carter," Nate's voice was pleading.

"Mr. Rivers, hold your tongue!"

I gave Nate a look that told him to stop and his returning look was pained. _How bad could it really be?_ The look on all of the guys' face told me that it was _very_ bad.

"Miss Goode, if you will kindly go into that room there and change into the clothes you find there."

_Changing clothes is the punishment? What, are they really ugly or something? Really uncomfortable?_ "Yes, sir," I said, heading for the room. As I passed Nate, I could've sworn that I saw tears in his eyes.

The clothes in the room consisted of a thin black long-sleeved shirt and comfortable black pants. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, the thought occurring to me that maybe he would just have me do something really hard physically, like run ten miles or something. As I pulled on my tennis shoes, I remembered Nate's tears and shivered.

Back out in the room, I finally understood.

There was a post towards the front of the room and Mr. Carter stood beside it, holding a black whip. No way. Could he really whip me? The way the boys were avoiding my gaze told me that he indeed could. And the determined look in Mr. Carter's eyes told me that he couldn't wait.

"Mr. Rivers," Mr. Carter said. "Tie her."

Nate looked up in horror.

"Tie her!" Mr. Carter commanded.

I felt my heart begin to pound.

Nate shook his head slowly. "Mr. Carter…"

"Now!" Mr. Carter bellowed. "Unless you would like to be whipped as well!"

I nodded at Nate and mouthed, _It's okay_.

He shook his head as he stood and walked towards me. A tear fell from his gorgeous blue eyes as he took the length of rope from Mr. Carter and nodded his head at the pole. In a soft, scared voice, he said, "On your knees; hands in front."

I obeyed and he tied my hands. "I'm so sorry," he whispered under his breath as he began to tie. More tears fell from his eyes.

"It's not your fault, Nate," I whispered back.

He finished tying. "I love you," he said before standing and backing away.

I could feel Mr. Carter behind me and I mentally prepared myself. How bad could this hurt?

"Four lashes," Mr. Carter said.

Oh God.

I'd been through a lot of pain before (such as Beth's roundhouse kick), but I had no idea what to expect from a lashing. I'd never been whipped before. I didn't even know that any teachers anywhere could do that to their students. How could it be real? But it was about to happen.

_Please let me be strong_.

The first lash made black dots dance before my eyes. I felt it rip through the shirt and knew that it would leave a scar, no matter what I put on it. The second one came at the peak of pain from the first one.

_Mr. Carter's done this before_.

The third and then the fourth came in quick succession and it was all I could do not to pass out. I felt something cover my back where the shirt had been ripped away and I cried out as the material touched the wounds. "I'm so sorry, Layla," I heard Nate whisper.

I felt myself being lifted by my legs and arms. I was being carried, but I didn't care where the unknown people were taking me. I was laid on my stomach somewhere and the rest of my shirt was torn away. Something wet touched my wounds and made them feel instantly better, like medicine, and I sighed in relief.

Nate's voice murmured comforting words, and I focused solely on the sound of his voice.

I must have drifted off because I woke to Jamie crying beside my bed. "Jame?"

She looked at me with her red-rimmed eyes. "Oh, Layla!" she sobbed.

"What time is it?"

"It's almost dinnertime," she answered, holding back a sob.

"Where are Beth and Sarah?"

She bit her lip.

"Jamie?"

"They went to the headmaster."

"What?" I asked. I sat up and cried out in pain.

"Layla!" Jamie shrieked. "Are you okay?"

I clutched at the soft red shirt that now covered me. "Fine," I breathed steadily. "Why are they seeing the headmaster?"

"About your lashing."

I shook my head. "They'll get in trouble."

"It's standard protocol?" Jamie gasped.

I nodded and was about to say something else, but the door to our suite burst open and my dad came in. He'd never looked more angry in all the time that I'd known him. "Are you okay?" he demanded.

I nodded, suddenly feeling angry myself. But not at Mr. Carter or the school. At my father. "Thanks for the warning."

This caught him off guard. "What?"

"Thanks for warning me to be careful!" I shouted. "Thanks for warning me that they whip here!"

"Layla, if I had suspected…"

"Nate and James did a better job sticking up for me than you did!" I shouted. "Just leave, Dad. Get out!"

He'd never looked more hurt as he slowly backed out, shutting the door behind him. Three seconds later, I collapsed back onto my bed in sobs.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

I opened my eyes, unsure of what had even woken me up in the first place. I found my answer when I turned my head. In the darkness, I could just barely make out a form sitting on the bed only inches from my body. The smell of sweet cologne drifted to my nose and I couldn't help but smile. "Nate."

"Layla," I heard him whisper and he set something down.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said as he reached out and stroked my hair, pushing it away from my face. "Just a piece of rope."

"Rope?"

I could hear the smile in his voice. "When I get…upset, tying knots helps."

"Oh," I replied softly, grimacing as I moved slightly.

"How is it?" Nate whispered.

"Stiff; sore."

He leaned in and kissed my hair. "I'm so sorry, Layla. You didn't deserve that."

"I broke the rules," I said softly. "The punishment is a great reminder not to step out of line."

"It's too harsh," he contradicted. "You didn't even do anything that bad."

"He's whipped people before, hasn't he?"

"Yes," Nate's voice was filled with a million emotions. "He's whipped me. And Landon."

"For what?"

"Landon showed him up during a duel and Mr. Carter accused him of cheating. I stepped in and tried to get Landon off the hook. So, we all got whipped."

I winced. "I'm sorry."

"I was fourteen, then," he said. "I didn't understand that actions have consequences."

I gave a knowing smile. "And you understand that _now_?"

He kissed my hair. "I understand it," he replied, "I just don't always keep it in mind."

I moved again and winced. "How bad is my back?"

"It was really bad before I got some of the medicine on it. Now, they just look like scratches."

"Medicine?"

"Seth stole this type of medicine from the infirmary and enhanced it. It's designed specifically for penetration wounds."

"Like whip lashes," I whispered.

He began to stroke my hair slowly. "Yes. Just like whip lashes."

"It hurt so bad," I whimpered.

Suddenly, I was in his arms. "I know, Layla. I know."

He held me as I cried silent tears. Finally, I asked, "Do my roommates know you're here?"

"No," he said into my hair. "I had to sneak in. Luckily, they're heavy sleepers."

I smiled. "Yeah, especially Beth. She can sleep anywhere, I swear."

He exhaled a short laugh. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," I whispered, sad again.

"What is it?" he noticed.

"My dad."

"What about him?"

"He found out about the lashing and he was…"

"Furious?" Nate supplied.

I smiled. "Yeah, that's an understatement. But, he came in here and…" I told him about what had happened. He listened quietly and when I finished, he said, "You shouldn't have gotten mad at him like that."

Leave it to Nate to be so painfully honest. "I know."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Talk to him," I said, tilting my head to kiss Nate's neck. "In the morning."

"Okay."

"Nate?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

I felt him smile against my hair. "I love you, too, Layla. So much."

"I know," I said smugly and he chuckled softly.

I woke up at six and got out of bed silently, before any of the other girls were even stirring. I pulled on a uniform and shoes, and then pulled my hair into a ponytail. I washed yesterday's makeup off of my face and applied new makeup. Certain movements made me tense and grimace in pain, but it wasn't actually too bad.

I made my way silently through the silent school until I reached my dad's quarters. I knocked on the door and he answered twenty-three seconds later. "Layla," he said, surprised. "Listen, sweetheart-"

"No, Dad," I said softly, giving him a smile. "_You_ listen. I was wrong to yell at you. You didn't think that I would get into that kind of trouble, and I totally understand that. It's okay; I'm not mad at you. And I had no right to be mad at you in the first place. So, _I'm_ sorry."

He smiled and tears shone in the green eyes that we shared. "Layla, I was so worried. I didn't get any sleep…"

"I can tell," I teased, looking pointedly at his messy hair and sweatpants and T-shirt.

He laughed softly. "Yeah, well…" then he seemed to notice my outfit. "Um…Layla, the headmaster gives students that have been lashed the rest of the week without classes."

"I know."

His expression grew even more confused. "Then, why-"

"Dad," I interrupted, as if it were obvious –which it was. "I'm a Goode. We're tough. No way I'm gonna give Mr. Carter the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me. No weakness."

The tears shone even more brightly in his eyes. "That's my girl." He reached out to hug me, but remembered. "Sorry."

I shook my head. "It's okay. They're nearly healed now."

He gave me a questioning look and I explained, "I got some…unique medicine on it."

He smiled. "Jamie's really helpful, huh?"

I didn't bother correcting him. Instead, I put my arms around him and hugged him. He hugged me back and whispered, "I'm so proud of you. And, Layla, I'm so sorry."

"Don't, Dad," I replied, pulling away. "I'm fine."

He smiled. "Your mother is very concerned."

"You _told_ her?" I asked.

He shrugged sheepishly. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Um…_not_ tell her?"

He couldn't help but smile at my outburst. "Too late for that, sweetheart."

"When's she coming down?" I sighed.

"I'll call and convince her not to," he replied.

I smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

"Sure, sweetheart. Sure."


	7. Chapter 7

7.

"Figured out what you're gonna tell your parents yet?"

"You stopped kissing me to ask me that?"

He gave me a look.

"Okay, okay," I said. "No, not exactly."

"Winter break is only a week away, Layla," he reminded me gently.

"I know, Nate," I replied, tracing his jaw with my index finger. "I'll figure something out, I promise."

"Maybe we should just tell your parents."

I froze. "You can't be serious."

"Why's it such a big deal anymore?" he asked. "You're eighteen, as of today. You're an adult now. They can't force you not to go anymore. Why won't you just tell them?"

That was a good question – one that had kept me up at night. Why _was_ it such a big deal to tell people about Nate and I now that I was an adult? No one could do anything about it; no one could forbid me to see him. I knew that somewhere in the back of my mind, I had a reason for my need for secrecy. Maybe it was that it was just how spies were.

"I think I get it," Nate said softly, stroking my hair gently.

"Get what?" I asked, leaning into him and feeling his arm tighten around my waist. I loved his arms around me.

"Why you don't want to tell anybody," he clarified.

"Do tell," I said, kissing his neck.

"You're ashamed of me."

I pulled back suddenly and when I saw the teasing smile on his face, I hit him playfully. "Nathan Rivers, that is far from the truth and you know it!"

He chuckled softly. "Do I?"

"Not even funny," I said, faking mad. I turned over, facing away from him, his arm still around my waist. "I'm not talking to you."

"I'm sorry, babe," he said, his warm breath tickling the skin on my neck.

"I'm not forgiving you."

He pressed his lips lightly to my skin. "You sure?"

"Yes."

He bit down gently and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. "You're _absolutely_ sure?"

"Yes," I managed to reply.

I could feel him smirk against my skin. "You don't _sound_ absolutely sure."

"It's hard to focus with you trying to seduce me."

"I'll bet it is," he agreed as he trailed kisses down my neck, stopping only to move one side of my cardigan and the sleeve of my tank top. He kissed my shoulder and bit down, catching me off guard. I moaned and he sucked the skin as I managed to keep more moans from escaping.

_He was GOOD_.

He finally moved his mouth away and kissed my neck again. "There's a mark there."

"No one's gonna be able to see that," I said, totally not caring.

He smiled against my skin. "I know."

"Mm," I said contentedly. "You can leave a mark anytime you want."

"You liked that?" he whispered into my ear.

I rolled back over to face him and planted a kiss on his lips. "Yeah, I did."

"You sure?"

I kissed him again. "Yeah."

"Absolutely sure?"

I kissed him again. "Yes."

"Good." He kissed me passionately and I let him, eagerly kissing back. He rolled so that I was under him. His hands supported himself over me and mine were around his neck, laced in his hair.

I moved my hands to his chest and began to unbutton his shirt. He moaned when I rubbed his perfectly sculpted muscles, and I removed his shirt completely, tossing it aside. I pulled him down to me, but he still bore most of his own weight. The pressure of his body against mine felt good.

He made no move to remove my clothes, so I moved my hands to try to do it myself. He broke the kiss. "No, Layla, stop."

"Sorry," I said, confused. "Were you getting to that?"

He sighed and kissed me once more before getting off of me to retrieve his shirt. "I let that go too far."

"I don't think you did," I argued.

He pulled his shirt on and began to button it. "It's hard to stop."

"Then don't," I said as my face slid into a pout.

He gave me a gentle smile. "I thought we wanted our first time to be special, Layla?"

I looked around the small room, shadows dancing across the stone wall from the light of the fireplace. It smelled like wood and a little bit like Nate's cologne. "Well…." Yes, Nate and I had agreed that we wanted our first time to be special. "This is special…if you're not opposed to doing it on a couch instead of an actual bed…"

He smiled and pulled me into a soft kiss. "Layla," he whispered as he pulled away. "Winter break's only a week away."

"And you'll take me then?" I asked as seductively as I could.

He gave me a sexy smile. "Yeah, I'll take you then."

"Good," I smiled and laid back on the couch, patting the space beside me. He laid down and took me in his arms, our bodies molding together perfectly. He absentmindedly drew circles on my arm and I listened to his heartbeat.

He spoke after a few minutes. "Is it because you've kept it for too long?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Us," he clarified. "Is it still a secret because we've just kept it for too long? Now, you're afraid that if you tell, people will be disappointed or angry at you?"

I hadn't even thought about that before, but something inside of me said that it hit pretty close to home. How had I not seen that before? "I don't really know."

He kissed my hair. "Your parents will love you no matter what."

"I know."

"And your friends may be mad at first, but they'll get over it. They love you, too."

"I know."

"Layla?"

"Yeah?"

He kissed my hair. "I'll love you no matter what you decide to do."

I smiled and lifted my head to kiss him. "Thanks. I love you, too."

As I snuggled closer to him and a sigh of contentment escaped him, I smiled and realized that I was dating the world's sweetest guy. He was absolutely perfect for me, in every way, shape, and form. He loved me for who I was, despite my flaws. He was always going to be there to support me. Surely my parents would understand.

Wouldn't they?

My mom and dad had always been understanding. At first, I had felt kind of bad about keeping the secret from them, but soon it had just become routine and it didn't ever bother me anymore. Because spies learn to live with the lies they tell and the secrets they keep.

I didn't want to keep the secret anymore.

But another part of me did, and that part won out. Nate was right; I didn't want them to be disappointed or angry. And even though I knew that it wouldn't last for long, it still scared me.

So, I snuggled closer to the guy I loved and smiled as his arms tightened around me. I pushed everything from my mind as I breathed in his cologne and listened to his steady heartbeat. Sometime I was going to have to think seriously about telling my parents and friends.

_But not right now._


	8. Chapter 8

8.

I took a deep breath and walked up to my dad's desk. He had officially released us fifteen seconds ago, and all of the students had filed out except for me. My dad looked up. "Layla, you okay?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"You sure?"

I sighed. "Actually, I need to talk to you."

"About what?" he asked, guarded.

_Shoot, I knew I should have had a plan_. I had thought about how to tell my dad ever since that night with Nate, but I could never get very far. So, I had decided to just talk to my dad without a plan. Maybe I'd end up telling him about Nate, maybe I'd lie through my teeth like a spy.

"Christmas break," I said, making the sudden decision not to beat around the bush.

"What about it?" he asked as he sat on the edge of his desk, one leg hanging off the side.

I swallowed. "Umm, what are you doing for the break?"

He looked confused. "Going home. With your mother. And…you." Now he sounded suspicious.

Great.

"Oh." _CRAP!_

"Layla, what's wrong?" he asked, studying me so closely that I couldn't look him in the eye. I looked around the room, pretending to be casual while I was shaking inside. How was I supposed to do this?

_You should've had a plan!_

"Nothing."

"Layla, look at me."

I did and regretted it. His green eyes held nothing but concern for me. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Dad, I…..I'm…" I'm dating someone. I'm dating Nate. I'm in love. With Nate. I want to spend Christmas break with him and not you and mom. Also, we're planning to sleep together.

Yeah, right.

"Layla?" he reached out and touched my arm. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I choked out.

He didn't look convinced, and why should he? _I_ wasn't even convinced that I was okay. "Layla, sweetheart, what is it?"

"Umm…"

"Did you have different plans for the break?"

I nodded but dreaded his next question.

"What plans?"

To sleep with my boyfriend.

"Umm…"

"Sweetheart?"

"I have to go," I blurted out, turning on my heel and walking away quickly.

"Layla!" my dad called after me and I could hear his footsteps behind me. "Layla, wait!" I ran until I ducked into an empty classroom and his footsteps went by me. I slumped against the wall and slid to the floor, not caring that it was cold. Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed silently.

_Way to go, Layla_.

"Layla?"

The voice was male, but it wasn't my father and it wasn't Nate. I looked up, wiping tears away so that I could see. It was Landon, Nate's roommate. His brown eyes were filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Umm…" I felt embarrassed that he'd caught me crying.

He ran a hand over his blond curls. "Want me to go get Nate?"

_Thank you so much_. That was exactly what I needed. "Yes, please."

He gave me a nod and a small smile before leaving the room. I began to cry again and it wasn't long until I felt familiar strong arms wrap around me as Nate pulled me into his lap. "Layla," he murmured quietly and I sobbed into his shoulder.

"Shh, baby, it's okay," he said as he stroked my hair with one hand as his other hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on my back.

"No it's not," I choked out.

"Did you tell your dad?" he asked.

I shook my head against his chest. "No."

"Why? What happened?"

I cried until I could finally get a hold of myself, and then I told Nate the short story. He listened and then asked, "What exactly was your plan, Layla?"

"I didn't have one," I said sheepishly.

He looked surprised. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I just…every time I tried to form a plan, I just…couldn't figure out what I wanted to do."

"You really don't want to tell him, huh?"

I shook my head and fell into Nate's arms again, breathing in deeply. "I'm so sorry, Nate. I just can't do it."

"We leave for the break tomorrow."

"I know," I said, feeling even more horrible. I didn't exactly have time to come up with a smooth plan. I would either have to come up with a lie pretty quick or I'd have to tell the truth.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know!"

He stood, pulling me up with him. He took my face in his hands and asked, "You really don't want your parents to know? Like, with all your heart? You want to lie?"

"If that was a possibility," I said, "but I don't see how-"

"Come on," he cut me off as he grabbed my hand and began to pull me along with him.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

We ended up in his suite, where I re-met Landon, James, and Seth. I sat on Nate's bed while he explained the situation to all of them. When he finished, everyone looked at Seth and Nate said, "Got a plan?"

Seth smiled. "Do I ever." He looked at me and mussed up his pale blond hair. "How would you like to go on a mission for the CIA?"

"A mission?" I asked, confused.

"Nice, dude," James congratulated Seth.

"A _classified_ mission," Seth clarified.

"I don't….."

Nate explained. "Seth can set it up to where it looks like the CIA wants you for a mission. But, all your parents will be able to see is that you're on a mission; everything else will be too classified for them to see."

"And that'll work?" I asked, hopeful.

"Duh," Seth said, already typing away on a laptop that looked similar to Jamie's, except his was black. "I'm a genius."

I smiled. "Thank you so much, Seth."

He flashed me a quick smile in return. "My pleasure. It's been a while since I've been able to do anything worthwhile around here."

It took Seth a couple of hours to set everything up, and then I went to talk to my dad, explaining that I had been so upset because I had received a request from the CIA not too long ago and I had –of course- accepted the mission that they had given me and I was worried that he'd be mad.

He was proud of me, though, and said that he completely understood and he knew that my mom would, too. He told me to be careful and gave me a few last minute tips before walking me back to my suite, where I had to tell the same lie to my friends.

I've never felt more guilty.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

I knew that I could've stayed in Nate's arms forever. The winter break had been so perfect, so magical, that I never wanted it to end. But, sadly, it had to. We had to return to school.

"Morning, love," Nate said as he kissed my forehead.

I hadn't known that he'd been awake. I smiled and kissed his lips. "Morning."

He smiled, his eyes full of love. "Sleep well?"

"Of course."

"Good."

I snuggled closer to him and his arms wrapped tightly around me. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, I said, "I don't wanna leave, Nate."

He kissed my hair. "I know; me either. But we have to. Besides," he grinned down at me, "don't you want your dad and friends to hear how splendidly you did on your mission?"

I laughed. "I guess. But I wanna stay with you. Like this; no interruptions, no worries, just us."

He kissed me. "I know."

I sighed in content and he said, "Soon enough, we'll be living together."

"Just one more semester," I said. "It's gonna take _forever_."

He smiled and kissed me passionately. He began to nibble on my neck and I smiled as I felt myself slipping into my own piece of heaven.

I arrived at Blackthorne thirty minutes before Nate, so that we wouldn't arouse suspicion. Seth passed me in the hallway and made an excellent brush pass in which he slipped a file into my bag.

When I got back to my room, I looked in the file and saw that it included documents that said I completed my mission and blah blah blah. Seth had done well, and I smiled. Looked like I'd get away with the lie after all.

My roommates all burst into the suite (they'd all stayed at Sarah's Switzerland house for the break) and they immediately demanded that I tell them as much as I could about my mission. I handed them the file and they read over it, listening excitedly as I "recounted".

They all hugged and congratulated me, telling me how absolutely proud they were of me and each time it was like a kick in the gut. A knock on the door made the praise stop for a moment, for which I was grateful.

Sarah opened the door to an eighth grade guy that told me that my father wanted to see me.

"He'll wanna hear all about the mission!" Jamie squealed.

"Here, take this!" Beth said, holding out the folder.

I took it and smiled convincingly at them all. "I'll see you guys at dinner."

"Bye!"

"See ya, Layla!"

"Good luck!"

In my dad's office, I found my dad sitting behind a desk. He looked up from a book when I came in and he broke into a grin as he stood. "Hey, sweetheart! How was the mission?"

He pulled me into a hug and I muttered, "Good."

"Details," he commanded with a smile as he pulled away. I held out the file and he took it, eagerly looking over the papers.

I stood there nervously, waiting for him to find some small flaw and catch me in my lie. I was trying to think of my excuses, but none came to mind. Seth's work must have been totally flawless, though, because my dad looked up from the papers and beamed at me. "That's my girl."

I smiled back, putting on my fake happy mask. "Thanks, Dad.'

He hugged me again and then held up the file. "Mind if I fax these to your mother real quick?"

I shrugged. "Go ahead."

He walked to the fax machine and put the papers in. "So, are you tired?" he asked.

"Very," I faked.

He nodded. "That's normal the first time."

"Yeah," I replied even though I had no idea because I'D NEVER BEEN ON A MISSION.

"It wasn't too scary or too dangerous, right?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes and gave the signature Goode smirk. "Dad, _nothing's_ too dangerous for a Goode."

He smiled at me. "That's my girl."

I shrugged. "Born and bred." I was feeling fidgety, but I didn't let it show. Spies live with their lies and they tell them as if they were the total truth. _The paper is totally legit_, I reminded myself. _No way anyone will figure anything out. Everything's going to be okay, Layla_.

My dad finished faxing, put the papers back into the folder, and gave the folder back to me. "I'm sure you'll want to hold onto this."

I smiled, "Thanks, Dad. I need to go get changed before dinner."

He nodded and gave me a hug and a kiss on the forehead before he said, "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

_You shouldn't be. You should be punishing me. I'm lying to you. I didn't go on a mission. I was in bed with a guy the whole break. I've been dating the guy behind your back for a really long time. I'm a scumbag. I'm a horrible daughter. I'm a horrible person. Can't you see that?_

But of course he couldn't. Because I was a good spy, and my cover was solid. So, I smiled and said, "Thanks, Dad. See you in class tomorrow."

Out in the hall, I breathed a sigh of relief and someone fell into step beside me.

Seth.

I shot him a grateful look. "Thanks. The papers are awesome."

"I know," he grinned back.

I laughed. "If I ever need forged documents…."

"I'm all over it," he said and we both laughed.

Inside, though, I felt like crying.


	10. Chapter 10

10.

"Why can't you be more like your father? He'd _never_ get that wrong."

"Are you _anything_ like your mother?"

"You should be more like your mother."

"Are you _sure_ you're a Goode?"

"Were you adopted?"

Those comments all haunted me every night as I tried to get sleep. The curriculum and challenges of Blackthorne were continually getting harder and harder, until I felt like my head was going to explode. My nights with Nate were less frequent and when they did happen, they were short-lived. He always ended up comforting me as I told him about all of the stress.

Jamie helped me with my homework, thankfully. I don't see how I would have gotten through it otherwise. I was determined to show the teachers that they could taunt me and throw whatever they wanted in my direction, but I wouldn't back down. I couldn't back down.

I _refused_ to back down.

Stubbornness was in my blood, and I was going to take full advantage of it. When I wasn't studying or with Nate, I worked out for the big CoveOps test that was to be our final grade. It could make or break me. And even though my dad was the CoveOps teacher, I knew he wouldn't take it easy on me. I also knew that there was no way he'd tell me what was going to be on the test.

I was actually feeling pretty good one day, even though a teacher had just asked –yet again- if I was adopted. I rounded the corner to an empty hallway and an arm snaked around my waist, steering me to an empty classroom. Nate shut the door behind us and whispered into my neck, "We haven't had much time alone lately."

I smiled. "No, we haven't. We should fix that."

"I agree," he said before beginning to kiss me. I gave myself completely over to him loving his touch and kisses.

He left marks on my neck that could easily be covered and when he broke away for air, he asked, "How's your stress?"

"What stress?" I smiled.

He laughed softly. "Feeling better, then?"

"Much," I said.

"Meet me on the grounds tonight?" he asked. "Just for a little walk?"

"I don't know if it's worth it for just a _walk_." I teased.

He smiled mischievously. "We can do whatever you're up for."

I gave him a seductive smile. "I'll meet you outside at midnight."

It seemed to take forever for midnight to roll around, but it finally did. I snuck quietly out of my suite and through the halls, careful not to make a sound. I made it outside and had just closed the door behind me when Nate grabbed me from behind and kissed my neck. "Gotcha."

I laughed softly. "Sure did. Now what are you gonna do with me?"

He grabbed my hand and pulled me along after him. We went for our walk, stopping every two or three steps to make out and then we went back inside. We walked the halls for a little bit, speaking in whispers and loving every second of our secret relationship. It felt like we were flaunting it but still keeping it a secret.

Nate backed me up to a wall and pressed his body against mine. "Not too much longer now."

"Only six weeks," I agreed. "But that means that the tests are coming up soon and…."

"You're nervous?" he asked. "Why?"

"I just want to show everyone that I'm not _just_ a Goode, ya know? I want them to know that I'm Layla, too."

He smiled. "I know that."

"_You_ do," I said. "But no one else does. Even my friends see me as Zach and Cammie's daughter sometimes."

"Then you better make a statement," he said. "Do something that no one will forget."

"But what?" I asked.

He kissed my neck. "Not sure. Maybe you could just blow everyone away on your finals exam."

"I don't even know what the exam is going to be like," I said. "There's no way to be sure that I could blow everyone away."

"You can," he murmured as he moved his mouth to mine. When he pulled away, he said, "You just need to believe in yourself."

"You sound like a monk," I smiled.

He rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm not going to shave my head. Or wear those ugly orange robes because I don't like wearing orange."

"You sound like a girl," I accused with a soft laugh.

He shook his head with an amused smile. "I guess I've been hanging around you too much."

"Maybe you have." I pulled him in for a kiss. "But I don't mind."

"Me either," he said as he kissed me again. "Maybe you could just make a public announcement. I am Layla Goode, _not_ just Zach and Cammie's daughter."

"I highly doubt that would work."

He smiled. "Me too. You could change your last name."

"I have three different aliases," I said. "What good would it do to change my original last name? And the problem isn't my last name; I don't mind that Goode is my last name. I like being my parents' daughter. What I don't like is people only hearing the 'Goode' part."

He nodded slowly. "So…what are you going to do?"

I shrugged. "I'm not really sure. Maybe I should get used to it. I'll probably have to endure it for the rest of my life, anyway."

He tilted his head. "Maybe. But maybe not. Maybe you'll do something to outshine them."

"They took down the Circle," I argued. "What could beat that?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out."

I rolled my eyes. "Stop being so supportive and just kiss me."

He smirked. "Thought you'd never ask."

He kissed me and it got more and more passionate until his tongue was in my mouth. I was about to suggest that we go somewhere more private when a voice said, "Layla?"

Nate jumped back and I looked for the source of the voice.

It was my dad.


	11. Chapter 11

11.

_**BUSTED**_.

I stood there, staring helplessly at my father, who in turn was looking back and forth from Nate to me, trying to put the pieces together of the puzzle that had been in front of him for so long. I was waiting for someone to speak, but my father and I were both speechless and Nate would think that he didn't have any right to speak, seeing as how this was clearly a family problem.

I wanted him to wrap his arms around me protectively, but he didn't, because he wasn't sure how my dad would react. _I_ wasn't even sure how my dad was reacting at the moment. His eyes were wide and he had a focused look on his face. His eyes met mine and he said, in a barely audible voice, "What is this, Layla?"

I flinched at the hurt I'd heard in his voice. But, he'd asked a question and he deserved an answer. _Don't be afraid,_ a small voice in the back of my head said. _You're an adult. He has to accept your choices. Just tell him the truth. Let it out._ "Dad…" I began, but I couldn't finish.

He waited.

I swallowed my tears and said, "Nate and I have been…dating….for a while now."

"Define 'a while'," he requested.

I looked to Nate for help, feeling my throat close up. Nate's eyes held nothing but sympathy for me. "A little over a year, sir."

"How did you two even meet?"

He was a lot calmer than I had expected. It was Nate who answered, "At the mall, sir."

"At the mall," my dad repeated quietly, putting a hand into the pocket of his jeans. "Who else has been keeping the secret, hmm?"

"The only ones besides Nate and I that know are Nate's roommates, Landon, James and Seth."

My dad nodded slowly. "Wow. Over a year. You've done an excellent job in keeping this, Layla."

His words felt like a knife plunged into my heart. Maybe it was a genuine compliment for my lying and covering skills, but maybe it was also intended to show how hurt he was. It worked both ways. I flinched, "Dad…"

"Why didn't you tell me, Layla?" Now the hurt was evident in both his eyes and his voice. It was all I could do not to look away. I felt tears in my own eyes and I tried to blink them back, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to for long. "Dad," I said in as steady a voice as I could, "I wanted to, but I just…couldn't."

"Winter break?" he questioned.

I nodded. "I didn't really go on a mission for the CIA. Those papers were forged. I spent winter break…." I took a deep breath, summoning all of my fleeting courage. "…at Nate's apartment."

My dad's hands clenched into fists. "You _lied_, Layla." His voice was so cold that I shivered.

"Dad….." the tears began to fall. "Daddy, I'm sorry."

He shook his head, the anger rising. He looked at Nate and said, "_You_. This is all because of yo-"

"Stop, Dad!" I said. "Nate wanted to tell you sooner than I did. He tried to get me to tell you, but I convinced him not to."

"That still doesn't change the fact that he snuck around with you behind my back!" My dad was furious, his voice slowly rising.

"I love him, Dad." My voice was soft, but it was also strong.

The truth dawned on him and he looked taken aback. "Layla…"

"Dad," my voice was stronger now. "I love Nate. I want to marry him, and I'm moving in with him after I graduate. He's a great guy, and he loves me, too. You can argue all you want or throw a fight or tell Mom, but…." I took a deep breath. "It's not going to help. I'm eighteen now; I'm an adult, and I can make my own decisions."

The hurt on his face pushed the knife deeper into my chest. I felt all of my courage die away and I felt like a little girl again, curled up in her parents' arms because of the thunderstorm outside. But this time, no one was holding me. Nate was looking back and forth between my father and me, and my father was looking at me, not even bothering to hide the hurt in his eyes.

"What happened to my little girl?" he asked.

"She's gone, Dad," I whispered. "I'm a big girl now, and I can live my life without any help from you. I'm a Goode, Dad, but I'm also Layla. I'm going to go out into the world and make my own name; be my own person."

He continued to look at me for a moment. Then, he let the heartbreak show in his face and his voice. "I thought that you loved me and your mother. I thought that we always had a good relationship. I know that being a spy means that you have to lie, but Layla…I never thought that you'd lie to us."

The knife was now completely through my heart and silent tears began to fall from my eyes again. I opened my mouth to speak, to plead, but no sound would come out. I could barely even breathe.

My dad looked at Nate and spoke quietly. "Congratulations."

Then, he looked at the small group of boys that I hadn't even noticed before. They must have been woken up by my dad's angry voice and appeared when I was too distracted to care that they were there. "Go back to bed," he told them in a commanding voice. "There's nothing to see here."

They all headed back to their rooms, except for Landon, Seth, and James. They looked at us with sad, apologetic eyes. As my dad passed Seth, I heard him say, "Nice paperwork."


	12. Chapter 12

12.

Apparently, Blackthorne boys gossiped just as much as Gallagher girls, because the story was already widespread by the next morning. I first found that out when I took a seat beside Beth at the breakfast table. All eyes were on me and I just…knew. "Great," I muttered.

I grabbed some toast and fruit and began to eat slowly. No conversation was taking place (in French or otherwise) and I looked at my friends. All of them were looking down at their plates, their faces expressionless. "Guys?" I asked hesitantly.

Jamie looked up at me, her expression sympathetic. I was puzzled, "Guys, what's going on?"

Sarah's eyes were ice cold. "Why don't you go cuddle it up with your boyfriend?"

I recoiled in shock. "Sarah, what…..."

Beth looked up at me and said, "Why would you keep something like that from us, Layla? We're supposed to be best friends."

"At least," Sarah added, "that's what we thought."

Before I could get another word out, they all stood to leave. Jamie gave me a sad smile before she followed Sarah and Beth. "Guys, wait!" I called, but none of them turned back. They stalked out of the hall, leaving me to sit all alone.

Unshed tears stung my eyes and I bit my lip like I always did when I thought I was going to cry. I caught side of my dad heading my way, on his way to the teachers' table. Call it my "daddy's little girl" instincts, but I knew that I needed him. I stood up and faced him. "Daddy…"

He looked at me, his green eyes cold and his face totally expressionless. "I'm sorry? You must be mistaken." He spoke in French, even though I had spoken in English.

I replied in French. "Dad, I need…"

He cut me off. "You're a big girl now, Layla, remember? You can live your own life and make your own decisions."

"Dad…." I choked on the tears I was holding back.

"Good day, Miss Goode," he pushed past me.

Everyone in the dining hall was looking at me and I just couldn't take it anymore. I ran out as quickly as I could without looking like a complete fool, though I was sure everyone already thought I was.

No father.

No friends.

I ran through the halls, not really caring where I was going. I only stopped when I heard the voice. "Mr. Goode, wait!"

"Mr. Rivers," my father said politely.

_Nate_.

I edged closer to the corner and peeked around it. My father and Nate were standing a few feet apart. My father had his hands clenched in fists behind his back and Nate's voice and face were pleading. "Mr. Goode, I need to talk to you for a minute."

"About what?"

"Layla."

_Me_.

"She's all yours now, Nate," my father said. "You won."

"This isn't a game, Mr. Goode. I love her."

My father's expression changed, but I wasn't close enough to see exactly what it held. "That's all well and good, Mr. Rivers, but why are you telling me this?"

"Mr. Goode…"

"And, may I add," my father said. "I'm having a little trouble seeing the love. You sneak around with her and…."

Nate interrupted. "I never wanted to sneak around! At first, I just didn't see a reason to tell anyone because nothing was going on, but then I just started falling so hard for her and…."

"You snuck around _behind my back_," my dad said. "Do you have any idea how upset that makes me? She's my little girl!"

Nate's voice was cold, his eyes shining with defiance. "By the scene at breakfast, I couldn't really tell."

My father was speechless for a whole twenty seconds. (Not even kidding. I counted.) Then, he spoke in a voice that cracked. "She'll always be my little girl, no matter what."

"Then, with all due respect, sir, I'm going to marry her."

My dad's shoulders slumped as he realized that he was losing his "little girl". I could tell that he'd thought that he had truly sheltered me from boys and I felt horrible inside for breaking him like that. "I guess I can't stop you, can I?"

"No, you can't," Nate said. "We were going to move in together after graduation anyway. At least, that was the plan."

He nodded in defeat. He knew that he had lost.

Nate continued in a careful voice. "That's why I wanted her to spend winter break with me. Come see the apartment and…" he blushed suddenly and his voice dropped off. "Never mind."

"Wait." My dad's head snapped up. "And _what_?" I'd heard that voice before. It was dangerous.

Nate took a step back as if my dad's anger were a tangible thing that was pushing him. My dad took a step forward. "What happened between you and my daughter over winter break, Nate?"

Nate's eyes widened slightly. His voice was soft. "I think you know, sir."

"I need to hear you say it," my dad said and there was an emotion in his voice that I wasn't sure I'd ever heard from him before? What was it? It almost sounded like….fear.

"Sir, we…" Nate wasn't sure exactly what to say. He was trying to calculate how my dad would handle it.

"You two had sex, didn't you?"

Nate swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sir."

My dad took a few steps back and slumped against the wall. "Get out of my sight, Mr. Rivers."

"Mr. Goode, I….."

"Now," my father said in a tired voice. "I can't handle this right now."

As Nate turned to leave, I made my way silently down the opposite hallway, tears spilling onto my cheeks and cascading down my face. My actions had completely broken my father.


	13. Chapter 13

13.

_Just breathe._

They all hate me.

_Just breathe._

My father hates me.

_Just breathe._

My friends hate me.

_Inhale. _

What have I done?

_Exhale_.

How did I mess up my life so thoroughly? I was only eighteen-years-old. And yet, I had already made my family and friends hate me. The only person I had left was Nate. I still hadn't told him that I'd heard the conversation that he'd had with my father, and I really didn't plan on telling him. What would be the point? It didn't really matter.

Or did it?

Now I was questioning every single thing. Which secret passageway should I hide in? Would that be the right one? Would I get caught? Did it matter if I got caught? Would I be whipped again? Did I even care if I got whipped again? I mean, it would hurt, but not nearly as much as the pain I was feeling inside. No amount of physical pain could even compete.

I had never seen my dad look so hurt or defeated. I had never seen fear in his voice. I had never been the cause of his pain. I had never had him shun me. I had never felt more alone.

Strong arms wrapped around me and Nate whispered, "There's something I need to tell you."

"If it's about what you and my dad talked about in the hall, I already know," I said. "I stopped beyond that corner where you two were talking and I heard the whole thing."

He kissed my hair. "Oh; never mind, then."

"I feel so horrible, Nate," I said, choking on my tears.

He kissed my temple. "I know, love. I know."

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked helplessly.

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"Me either."

"Then I guess we'll just have to wait for it to blow over," he said. "Your dad's still your dad, Layla. Did you see how concerned he was for you while we were talking in the hall?"

I nodded slowly.

"He's just unsure how to handle all of this," Nate reasoned. "It's a lot to take in all at once. I mean, accepting the fact that your daughter kept a bog secret from you, she's in love with someone and you never even knew it, they slept together, they're moving in together…"

"It's a lot," I agreed.

He kissed my hair. "He's your dad. He loves you. He'll forgive you; he just needs time and space."

"And Beth?" I asked, my voice shaky. "And Sarah and Jamie?" Tears escaped my eyes.

"They're your best friends. I'm sure they'll forgive you. They need time and space, too."

I sighed. "You're right."

"You should apologize, though."

"Apologize…."

"Only for the stuff you're sorry for, though. Like for keeping the secret. Don't apologize for anything you aren't really sorry for, like having sex with me or dating me."

"Yeah," I whispered. "Maybe I should apologize."

"It might help."

"They might not talk to me."

"There's always that," He agreed. "But I bet they'll at least listen."

"Will they?"

"Of course they will, Layla. They all care about you a lot. Otherwise, they wouldn't be so hurt by your actions."

I took in his words and processed them in my brain. He was absolutely right. If I didn't mean anything to them, they wouldn't be so disappointed and upset when they found out that I'd basically lied to them. But, because they all cared so deeply for me, they were hurt.

"When did you get so smart?" I teased with a smile.

He leaned down and kissed me. "I've always been smart."

"Seriously?" I faked shock.

He kissed my neck. "Seriously. Oh, and I almost forgot. I figured you could use some cheering up." He took a ring out of his pocket. It was silver, with a solitaire princess cut diamond that wasn't too big, but was also startlingly beautiful. "I was waiting for the right time," he whispered in my ear. "But then things got so messed up and I just didn't know when an opportunity would come around and I didn't want to have to wait for a long time."

I was speechless.

"Layla Alana Goode, will you marry me?"

I was suddenly grinning from ear to ear, completely overcome by my happiness. I pulled him into a deep kiss and when I pulled away, I said, "Of course I will."

He slipped the ring onto my finger and I gaped at it, completely thrilled at the fact that it was _mine_. Nate was _mine_ and I was his. It all felt too good to be true, like a fairytale. But then I remembered that there were a lot of bad things happening, too, and I knew that it was real. Painfully real.

Nate smiled at me and then kissed me. "I love you."

"I love you," I told him before kissing him. We were in the middle of a passionate kiss when a faint voice came. It had to be coming from an intercom in the hall not too far from the secret passageway we were in. I listened, but I could barely make out the words.

Nate groaned. "Of course it would have to be _now_."

"What?" I asked. "What's going on now?"

"Our CoveOps final, Layla," he said, standing up and offering me his hand. "It's about to begin. We're supposed to change into regular clothes and be by the main doors in twenty minutes."

"See you then." I kissed him quickly and we both hurried out of the passageway.

Back in my suite, I completely ignored the other girls and my mind went into spy mode as I changed into jeans, a T-shirt with a hoodie over it, and Nike Shox. I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and didn't mess with my makeup because it hadn't really faded.

Nate was waiting for me by the doors and I took his hand before I finally felt determination overtake me.

I would not fail.


	14. Chapter 14

14.

My father appeared before us, holding black cloths in his hands that I assumed were to be blindfolds. He gave us all a smile and said, "Here we go, ladies and gents. This will be the thing that most determines your future. Should you fail, I highly doubt that you will get many jobs anywhere. Succeed…..well; if you succeed then you're good. Really good."

He turned and pushed open the doors, walking out without calling for us to follow him. We all did, though, and when we got outside, we saw a helicopter waiting for us, its blades spinning. We all hopped inside and found a seat to get comfortable. I sat beside Nate –of course- and he put a comforting arm around my shoulders. My dad saw this and looked away quickly, continuing to hand out blindfolds. "Try to peek," he warned. "And I'll fail you on the spot."

He tied my blindfold on and then Nate's. I knew that it wouldn't be any good to try to figure out where we were going. The helicopter could be flying in circles for all we knew or we could be flying over the ocean or to California or something. No use getting all keyed up before a huge test. I just needed to relax. So, I leaned my head on Nate's shoulder and he wrapped his arms around me. I wanted to sleep, but it was so loud that I didn't think I'd be able to fall asleep. "Nate?"

"Hmm?" he asked.

"I need you to…" How was I supposed to phrase it?

Turns out, I didn't need to. He –being the amazing guy that he was- just knew. "It'll be okay, Layla. You'll do fine."

I sighed deeply. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."

I could hear the smile in his voice. "I know."

"What do you think the test will be like?" I wondered aloud.

Jamie's voice answered. "I tried to hack into a database to find out if any CIA operatives were hired for a mission, but I couldn't find anything."

I couldn't help but smile. "Jamie….."

"I know," I heard her say. "Listen, Layla, the reason we were so upset was because we never thought you'd keep a secret from us. Especially one that big."

"_Were_?" I asked, picking out the word that made me grin. "You're not mad anymore?"

"Still kind of upset," she admitted, "but not mad, no. You love him, right?"

"She better," Beth's voice cut in. "She's marrying him."

I smiled. Of course Beth would have noticed the ring.

"Congrats," Sarah spoke up from somewhere beyond Beth.

"Thanks, guys," I said, tears in my eyes.

"I better be your maid of honor," Beth threatened.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Duh."

"And I'm totally helping with wedding plans," Sarah threw in, not asking but telling like she always did. It was probably for the best anyway. According to her I had "the fashion sense of a colorblind monkey".

"Helping or taking over?" I teased.

"Taking over, duh," she replied.

We laughed and then I said, "I love you guys, I really do."

"We love you too!" Jamie squealed, happy that the fight was over.

"Hey, Nate?" Beth said.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"If you break her heart, you're dead."

"I'll help," Sarah added.

"They'll torture you with an eyelash curler and mascara," I elaborated with a smile.

He chuckled softly, but his voice was totally serious. "Trust me; I would never do anything to hurt her. I love her more than anything."

"Aww!" Jamie said.

I laughed. "Okay, so, you guys ready for the test?"

"No," Jamie immediately answered.

"You said that about the COW final last year," Sarah reminded her.

"And you rocked it," Beth finished.

"I'm not ready," Sarah said. "I seriously have no idea what we'll have to do and you guys know how much I suck at this kind of stuff."

"You do not," Beth said. "_I'm_ the one that's gonna have trouble."

I rolled my eyes but I knew they couldn't see. "You guys will be fine."

"So will you," Sarah said.

"You'll blow everyone away," Beth threw in.

"Totally," Jamie said.

Nate said, "That's what I keep trying to tell her."

I laughed. "I feel a lot better now guys. How long have we been up in the air?" I'd lost track.

"Almost twenty minutes," Nate said. "And I don't think we've been flying in circles."

"We're actually going somewhere?" Beth asked.

"That would be my guess," he said. "I just have no idea where. I don't even know what direction we're heading."

"Please not north," Jamie said. "I don't wanna go to Canada!"

"That was a one-time thing, Jamie," I said. "No way you'll get attacked by a grizzly bear again."

"A _grizzly bear_?" Nate asked, laughing.

"Shut up!" Jamie said.

Beth quickly recounted the tale to Nate who cracked up laughing. I smiled and felt warm inside as I listened to my best friends and the love of my life bonding. It felt like my life was finally getting good again.

But there was still the issue with my dad….

He was hurt way more than my friends and it was going to take a lot more than a grizzly bear story to get him to warm up to Nate. I tried to come up with a talk, something to convince him that I still loved him.

Because I did still love him.

And I always would.

_Then why'd you hurt him? Why were you such an idiot?_

"I don't know," I muttered softly.

"What, babe?" Nate asked.

"Nothing," I said quickly, feeling myself blush.

The helicopter descended quickly. "Blindfolds off," my father commanded. I reached back to untie my blindfold. When I drew it away, I was greeted by too bright sunlight.

"Welcome to your CoveOps final."

I gasped.


	15. Chapter 15

15.

Nate grasped my hand tightly and I wanted to squeeze his hand back to show that I appreciated his support, but I couldn't move at all. I was surprised that I was still breathing. My heart was pounding in my chest from a mixture of fear and uncertainty. I could feel my whole body trembling on the inside as my blood rushed – too quickly – through my veins. This is impossible.

"There's no way!" Beth spoke the words that I had been thinking ever since I took my blindfold off. And we were both right. Before us, there was a city with buildings that were large and well-built, but that definitely didn't belong in the United States. I saw the sun barely peeking over the rooftops of buildings and my stomach churned. I felt so sick.

"Saudi Arabia?" Leah asked, shocked. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head. She was reviewing every fact that we'd ever learned in Mr. Smith's class and trying to cross-reference it with the material that she'd been studying to prepare for the final. By the look on her face, she had no idea how to proceed. And that wasn't reassuring at all.

"Saudi Arabia," my dad agreed, looking out over the city with a small smile on his face, as if he were keeping a secret. He probably was. But how could he be smiling? Nothing about the current situation was funny. At all.

"There's no way we could have gotten here this fast, sir," Leah said, mentally calculating even though she knew that she was right. _I_ knew that she was right and I wasn't even up to her level of intellect. We hadn't been flying long enough to cross the ocean, not to mention most of Europe.

"This is a special helicopter," my dad said as if it were obvious. And maybe it should have been. After all, when you're a spy, nothing is ever as it seems. There's always some deeper meaning that we are trained to see.

"It's enhanced," I spoke. "The speed."

My dad didn't even look at me as he nodded. "Yes, this helicopter is much enhanced. I'm not sure exactly what the speed is, but it is very _very_ fast."

Leah drew in a breath. "Did they mess with the motor or was it just-"

My dad interrupted her. "I'm not sure; I didn't work on it." My dad had never really been the best with mechanics. I remembered the time that the car had broken down on the side of the road and my dad had spent thirty minutes staring at it and muttering to himself, unsure of what to do. I had been ten years old, but I had been able to step in and repair the car.

The memory made me smile.

"This isn't a joyful mission, Miss Goode," my dad said. Great, so we still weren't on good terms.

"I would expect not, sir," I said, exaggerating the 'sir'. I wanted to make it clear that I thought that he was being immature about the situation. "Saudi Arabia is at civil war. Whatever this mission is, I know that it won't be easy. But I'm ready," I gave the signature smirk that my father and I both shared. "Born ready, actually."

The corner of my dad's mouth twitched as if he was going to smile, but he didn't. "Blend in, ladies and gentlemen. Find yourself some native clothes or I suppose you could risk looking like a tourist."

Before he could continue, I said, "How we dress would depend on our mission."

My dad still didn't look at me. "Osama Al-Bar," my dad said. "I want his fingerprints."

Nate spoke now. "The mayor of Mecca? Do you have any idea how impossible that-"

"Nothing's impossible," I said to Nate, repeating what my dad had told me many times. "You just haven't found the right way yet."

"Your other mission is to be inconspicuous. Don't get caught. I'll be back here, in this very spot, in three days' time. Be warned, every single one of you are in danger. Death is a possibility. This is the life that you have chosen, ladies and gentlemen. After graduation, your lives will be in danger every second of every day. So get ready."

I took that as a dismissal. I headed for the door, still holding Nate's hand. My dad reached out to stop us. "One last thing." He reached down and separated our hands. "No partners. You do this alone."

Nate looked at me, panicked. I was panicked, too. I didn't want to have to be by myself, not knowing if Nate or Leah or Sarah or Beth was dead or in trouble. I wanted to be able to help my friends. I wanted someone to have my back. But no one would. I was all alone on this one.

"You're turning us loose in Saudi Arabia – a country at civil war – and you're not even going to let us have partners?" Nate asked, his voice uneven. He was just as unhappy about this as I was. Before anyone could object, I kissed Nate and said, "Be safe."

"You too," he said softly, smiling gently.

"Always," I said as I headed for the city and immediately melted into the crowd. The smells and sights were strange but I couldn't concentrate on them too much because the crowds were pressing all around me. Random people were being beaten and I always had to turn my face away so that I wouldn't end up trying to help them.

An hour into walking, I felt someone watching me. Deciding that being covert wouldn't matter, I turned. Nate was standing down the street a hundred yards, looking right at me. I gave him a smile and was about to head over. I was stopped by the bomb. It wasn't a very destructive bomb, but destructive enough. I heard the boom and watched as the street blew up only a few feet from Nate. I watched as he was blown backwards and obscured by smoke.

I heard myself scream.


	16. Chapter 16

16.

"Nate!" I screamed as I regained use of my feet. I forgot about my mission. I forgot my own name. I forgot that I was supposed to be invisible. I didn't care that people saw me. I needed to get to him. "Nate!"

The smoke was thick and I began choking instantly. I began to worry. How long had Nate been in the smoke? I tried to mentally calculate, but it wasn't working; my brain refused to give me the information that I wanted. I felt like I weighed a million pounds, unable to move quickly or efficiently at all. The smell was dangerous and I knew that if I breathed in too much of the air, I would die pretty quickly. The residents of Mecca were used to the air; it's what they'd been breathing their whole lives. They could handle the groggy air. I had lived in North America all of my life, though. The United States, specifically. The air was cleaner there. I wouldn't be able to handle this air for long; I knew it. I knew that Nate wouldn't, either. There was a possibility that he was already…

"No!" I cried out and then coughed as more of the toxic air entered my lungs. It choked me and I fell to my knees, pieces of the blasted street poking through my jeans and into my flesh. I couldn't see because of the thick wall of dark smoke. It was oddly luminous, though; something was on fire. "Nate!" That set off another round of coughing, but I didn't care. I had to get him out of there before another bomb went off or before he suffocated on smoke or before her caught on fire or something. I needed to find him and save him and hold him and tell him how much I love him. We could run away together and go live safely in Hawaii or Michigan or Indiana. We could agree to stay far away from the CIA. We could live normal lives like normal people.

I could practically see us as a married couple. Waking up next to him every morning. I could see our kids, beautiful and strong. I could see a simple house with a white picket fence and a pleasant little garden. I could see a dog – possibly a lab – chasing our kids as they ran through sprinklers on the Fourth of July. I could see a future that would be of my choosing; something that no one would be able to just jerk away from me. No one would tell me or Nate to go on some dangerous mission to Zimbabwe or Indonesia. We wouldn't have to disable bombs or spy on terrorists. We wouldn't have to chase down any dangerous hit men or be at too much risk anymore. We could live a life of our choosing.

We could…

Someone was coughing.

"Nate?" I began coughing as soon as I opened my mouth, but I still managed to shout his name.

"Layla." The voice was weak and it belonged to Nate. I would recognize it anywhere.

"Nate!" I began to move again, trying to stand up to no success. I stumbled along blindly through the smoke. I could feel my body trying to shut down, my heartbeat getting immensely slower. My head was pounding to some unheard rhythm and my thoughts were all muddled. Still, I pressed on. This was my mission now; my sole purpose in life. I needed to save the guy that I loved. When I found him, I could convince him to run away with me. I could convince him to leave the CIA, for me. For us. He would realize that I was right. He would agree that it would hurt us too much. He would agree to come with me and start a new life; a happy life. He would agree because he loves me and he wants what's best for us. It's the kind of guy that he is.

"Nate…." My voice was groggy and I couldn't even cough anymore. I could barely make a sound.

There was no reply to my call. Hadn't he just answered less than a minute ago? He had; I had heard it. Hadn't I? I couldn't have been imagining things. Smoke doesn't make you imagine things. But trauma does….

_Stop!_ I commanded myself. _I heard him. I heard him. I have to find him_.

"Nate!" My voice was suddenly stronger, fueled by my panic and my desire. The desire to hold him and know that everything was going to be okay. We could start a new life. We could be happy together. We were already happy together. "Nate!"

There was no answer, but I kept my hopes up. Nate was smart; he probably just didn't want to get any smoke into his lungs. He knew that breathing it was dangerous. He was waiting for me to find him. He was waiting on me. Waiting to hold me. Waiting for me.

"Nate!"

No answer. _That's a good thing;_ I reminded myself, _that's a good thing_. "Nate!"

_Why am I still calling him if I know that he won't answer?_

"Nate!" I couldn't help it. My head was spinning and I began coughing again.

There's the fire.

The blood.

Blood.

My stomach lurched.

_There were a lot of people on the street,_ I reminded myself.

I passed a severed head.

_It's not Nate. Keep walking_.

"Nate!"

I coughed and still pushed blindly through the thick smoke, holding on to my sanity by a thread. I needed him back.

"Nate!"

There.

I saw him and threw up, blood and bile all mixed together. When it was finished, I collapsed by his side.

No.

I love you.


	17. Chapter 17

17.

_Complete your mission._

No, I couldn't. I couldn't even think of the mission anymore; I didn't remember what it was. People were screaming and running like maniacs, scared that another explosion would come. I didn't care. I could barely move. The smoke was sill thick around me, covering me like a blanket. I didn't care anymore if I inhaled it; I just wanted to die.

To die like Nate.

"Layla!"

I didn't care who was calling me. It could have been any of the Gallagher Girls or even my dad. No, probably not him. He had made it clear that we wouldn't have any help, even though I knew that he was watching us. Bombs were a part of civil war, though, and he wouldn't see anything alarming. He wouldn't be able to see through the smoke. Would he even care?

No.

What if I was dead? Would he care?

Maybe.

But he'd made his dislike for Nate very clear and I knew that no help was going to come.

"Layla! Layla!"

Except for whoever was calling my name. They sounded panicked. Did they think that I was dead, too? Did they know that Nate lay beside me, blood still seeping from his lifeless body? Why were they coming after me? Were they going to save me? Were they planning on taking me to a CIA hospital where I would be treated and then expected to tell the story of what happened to at least ten operatives? How was I supposed to face everyone and do that? I could barely accept it myself.

"Layla! Layla, where are you?"

_Here_. But I couldn't speak. My throat felt tight and my lungs were slowly filling with the smoke, my nose with the fumes of fire. I knew that I needed to move. But Nate; I couldn't leave him. Even though I knew that he was dead, I couldn't leave him. Some part of me wanted to cling to the vain hope that he was alive. That he would jump up and carry me out of danger. That he would tell me that he loved me and that everything would be okay.

I knew it wasn't going to happen, but I couldn't let go of hope. I just couldn't.

"Layla!" Someone was kneeling beside me now, feeling my neck for a pulse. "Layla, can you hear me?"

"Yes," I croaked somehow.

Fingers poked and prodded me, checking for broken bones or internal injuries. It was a waste of time since I hadn't been in the bomb's range; I had just run into the fire and the aftermath, completely disregarding my own safety. And it hadn't even paid off. Nate was dead; he wasn't coming back.

"He's dead."

"Yes," the voice said honestly. "Nate's dead."

Hearing someone else confirm what I already knew actually hurt me, stupidly enough. I had maybe been hoping that the person would say, "No, he's right here. He's alive." But, of course, that didn't happen. Nate was dead; he couldn't come back. Ever. He would never hold me again or tell me that he loved me more than anything in the world. He would never flash me his cocky grin or make a sarcastic comment. I would never feel his hand in mine or his lips on mine. We would never get married or get to buy our own house. We would never exchange another word. We would never get to have children and raise them up to be spies. We would never be the old couple sitting together on a porch swing sipping lemonade and watching our grandchildren play with the Great Dane, Butch. We would never have so much that we deserved. That _he_ deserved.

"Nate," I groaned, not sure exactly what I was trying to communicate.

"Someone get that body!" Someone commanded. "He's one of us."

Nate. Yes, he was one of us. One of the best among us. He was a damn good spy and always ready for anything. He was nice and sweet, the best boyfriend that anyone could ask for. He was funny and smart.

"Nate."

He hadn't even been my fiancée for a full day. Did he know how much I loved him? Did he know how much I had dreamed of our future together? Did he have any idea what his death was doing to me? Could he see me now? Did he know what I was going through? Why did he have to leave me?

"Why did you leave me?" I whispered.

Strong arms lifted me and I felt myself moving. We were covering ground swiftly, floating easily among the crazy crowd. No one noticed us. Why would they? For all they knew, we were normal. I wasn't a girl that could kill someone with a piece of uncooked spaghetti. I couldn't speak multiple languages. I didn't know five forms of martial arts and I couldn't disarm a bomb. And, at the moment, I really couldn't. I was really normal. If someone had said something to me in Farsi, I wouldn't have been able to comprehend. Because I felt dead.

I was dead.

Dead like Nate.

Gone.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

I could hear sounds that I knew, but they weren't really registering to me. A roaring so loud that I wanted to cover my ears but I couldn't move. I felt myself being handed over to someone else and then I felt something solid beneath me. None of my training kicked in; I just let go.

Someone else poked and prodded me, checking more extensively for injuries. I heard something about smoke and then an oxygen mask was covering my mouth. Minor cuts and scrapes were taken care of and then I was left alone.

All alone.

"I didn't get to say goodbye."

Dead. He's dead. The love of my life is dead. He died. He won't come back. He's dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

I'm dead.


	18. Chapter 18

18.

"Layla?"

_Go away._ I couldn't find my voice. The CIA doctors had told me that was normal. Something about PTSD – post-traumatic stress disorder. _Disorder. I have a disorder._ Sometimes I zone out and find myself in the P&E barn at the Gallagher Academy when I know for a fact that the last place I was in was the hospital wing. Sometimes I stare at a full plate of food in front of me and all of a sudden, the food is gone; like I ate it without knowing. Sometimes, I hear voices in my head: Nate's, mostly. It's like flashbacks, but I never _see_ him, I just hear him.

Turns out, my dad had no idea that there would be a bombing. The civil war was supposed to end soon. We were supposed to somehow figure that out and know that we weren't really supposed to kill anybody. If one of us had anyway, then the civil war would have just continued.

What if we didn't figure it out? What if someone killed him? Would it affect us? No; not at all. We would come back to the good ole USA – back to our safe and cozy mansion – and some of us would probably never even think about it again. Me included, if Nate hadn't gotten blown up.

"Layla?"

There I went again, zoning out. I reached up and re-fixed my hair into its high ponytail. It was the only thing I was sure about. One of the only things. I had also been able to pull on black sweats and a T-shirt, along with some black Pumas. Getting myself ready was the only thing I could be sure about. I was the only person that I could trust. If Nate was alive…

_Stop. Stop it now. You know you have to stop wishing. It won't happen. Breathe._ I inhaled deeply and continued to stare out the window at the foggy morning. The sun wasn't visible, but its light was. I used to love mornings like that. I used to love mornings, period. But after _the incident_, it's all I can do not to pull the covers over my head and stay in bed all day. I haven't run or exercised in two weeks, haven't eaten in three days.

I wasn't suicidal. Sure, sometimes a thought of slicing myself or grabbing a gun and just ending it all would cross my mind, but it left just as quickly. I couldn't do that. Nate wouldn't want me to do that just because of what happened to him He would want me to go on with my life and try my best to be happy.

"Layla?" The voice was still patient, but louder, as if they thought that the only reason I wasn't responding was because I couldn't hear them.

A hand touched my shoulder and I didn't even flinch, even though I hadn't heard the footsteps come across the carpet. I had sensed the movement, though, even though I hadn't been trying to. Old habits die hard.

_Die._

"Layla."

It wasn't a question anymore. The voice knew that I could hear him. He knew that I didn't turn around because I didn't want to talk to him. He knew. But he was talking to me anyway, thinking that I was suddenly going to sprout sonnets or something. Not happening.

"Listen, Layla, I had no idea that a bomb would go off."

_I know._ And I did. I knew that my father hadn't known about the bomb. But he had taken us on that mission and sent us on a mission with false pretenses. He didn't come to help when it went off. He didn't visit me in the hospital until four days later. He hadn't checked in at all once I'd been released.

"Layla? Please, just…say something."

"I have nothing to say to you," I said so softly that I wasn't sure that he even heard it.

But he had. Of course he had; spies heard _everything_. That's why I heard him inhale sharply before he said, "You have to know that I would never do something like that. Sure, I was angry that Nate had gone behind my back-"

"_I_ went behind your back, Dad. I'm your kid, not Nate. I'm the one that deceived you. Nate wanted to tell you from the beginning."

"Why did you hide it?"

"Why didn't you ever figure it out?" I challenged. My dad was one of the best spies in the world. It was shocking that he hadn't figured it out.

His eyes darkened and his face fell slightly. "I should have."

"You been gardening?" The spy in me had noticed a tiny line of dirt under his fingernails. Barely noticeable.

The corner of his mouth pulled up. "Something like that."

"Classified?"

"Very."

I nodded. "It's always been like that."

He sighed, "Layla, I'm sorry."

"For what, Dad?" I asked, my voice not even showing how mad I was. "For bringing me into this world so that I would have to face all of this pain? For not being able to tell me anything about your life? For turning your back on me? For all of the sleepless nights you've caused me because you were on a mission and I was scared because I didn't know if you'd ever come back? For taking me to that wretched place? For watching while the bomb exploded? For not coming to help me? For not helping Nate? For not coming to visit me in the hospital until you figured it was safe? Which one, Dad? Which one?"

He looked a little shocked. "Layla…"

I turned back to the window. "I loved him, Dad."

I knew he didn't want to admit it. "I know."

"He's dead," I whispered.

"I know."

"The dirt…" I took a deep breath. "You helped bury him."

"Yes."

"Why did it take two weeks?"

"We were examining the body."

"For what?"

"It's…"

"Classified," I finished for him.

"Nate had secrets, Layla."

I turned to face him, my mouth open in shock.


	19. Chapter 19

19.

_Nate had secrets._

At first, I felt betrayed. Then, I remembered what kind of business we were in and I just scoffed. "Kind of like your secrets, Dad?"

My father looked at his shoes and when he looked back up at me, I could see the sadness in his eyes. He really hadn't wanted anything to happen to Nate. I mean, maybe he had wished it, but he hadn't meant it. He just hadn't been too happy with the fact that I had been going behind his back with a boy for quite a while. Or that I had slept with said boy in the process of outright lying to him.

But still, he didn't handle it right. And he knew it. Still, he said, "Look, Layla, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that my job has me working most of the time and that it involves a lot of unusual things, most of which – yes – I can't tell you. I'm sorry that I missed out on some important things. I'm sorry that you don't feel like you can talk to me about anything. I'm sorry that you feel that Nate's death was my fault. I dunno….maybe it was…."

_Nate's death. Nate's dead._ I still couldn't stand those words being together in the same sentence, true or not. I still hated to think of him as dead. He was always so vibrant and alive… But not anymore.

My dad was still apologizing but I wasn't really paying any attention. I was thinking about Nate, before the explosion. He had been coming towards me, a smile on his face. But there had been something else, too. In his eyes. Or was I just imagining that because of what my father had said about him having secrets? I shook my head to clear it. I couldn't doubt Nate. Not now.

"Layla?"

"What?" I snapped.

My father recoiled slightly. "I know that this is hard on you. Your mother thinks that we should-"

"What secrets?" I interrupted. I knew that if I didn't ask, it would bother me for the rest of my life. I had to know now. I was just as nosy and curious as my mother.

My dad glanced around the room and then sighed, struggling inwardly. "Actually, I don't think right now is the best time to tell you."

"Why?" I challenged, even though I was pretty sure that I knew the reason.

"You loved him, Layla, and I know that you deserve to know."

"So why aren't you telling me?" I asked, staring out the window. I could see Gallagher girls making their way to the P&E barn, some of them laughing. They were talking, probably about the latest fashions or what they wanted to do the next time that they got to visit town. They didn't know that anything changed. Because nothing had, in their lives. I'm sure that they had heard the story, but they had already moved on. It didn't affect them. The world was still turning.

"He just died, Layla. The doctors said that you still need time to adjust."

"Says the man that ignored his doctors to go after a man that was planning to bomb New York City."

"That was different."

"Why?" I challenged, still staring as the group of girls walked into the barn. I wondered what they would be working on. Roundhouse kicks? Multiple attacker strategies? Dealing with pain?

"Because my pain was physical," he whispered. "Yours is emotional. And sometimes, that's more dangerous."

"I don't care, Dad," I said softly. "I don't care. I want to know. We were _engaged_. I deserve to know." My right hand reached up to my neck, where Nate's ring hung from a near invisible silver chain. I didn't exactly want it in plain sight, but I still wanted it close to me. The chain was my solution.

My father sighed. "We're looking into his death."

"_We_ meaning the CIA?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Why?" I asked, confused as I turned to face him. "They can't do anything about it. It didn't happen in the USA or by a US citizen. They can't do anything about the results of a civil war. Why are they wasting time on the investigation?"

"They aren't exactly wasting time," he said. He gestured to a small couch. "Why don't you take a seat?"

I have always hated the phrase 'take a seat'. When I was little, I used to contemplate grabbing the proffered seat and running away with it. As I got older, it just annoyed me. It was just another thing that adults told me to do and something that I was expected to obey. Take a seat.

I did. My dad remained standing, pacing a full ten yards away and then back. He sighed. "Did Nate ever mention any enemies?"

I went back through everything in my head. "No. He never had any enemies."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure he would have told me. I mean, he's killed people before, but no one ever knew it was him."

"Until a man named Garret Larson hacked into our system and found out who killed his brother."

Larson. That name rang a bell, but I had no idea why. "Who's Garret Larson?"

"The brother of Jett Larson, a big time drug dealer and money launderer."

"So, what does Nate have to do with all of this? Besides the fact that he killed Jett."

My dad sighed. "We – the CIA – believe that Garret Larson is the one who set off the bomb."

"To kill Nate?"

"Yes."

My hands started shaking but I ignored them. Anger filled me, but I kept myself composed. "So what now?"

Sadly, my dad informed me. "Now, we get to the hard part."

"The hard part?"

"Did Nate ever mention a brother?"


	20. Chapter 20

20.

A brother.

I wandered around the grounds of the mansion that I knew so well and contemplated what I'd just heard. A brother. No, Nate had failed to mention that. In fact…

I stopped and sat on a window seat as a flashback overtook me.

"_**Whatever," I rolled my eyes as Nate leaned down to kiss me, ever so gently.**_

"_**It's true," he smiled, dazzling me. "I dare you to find evidence against it."**_

"_**As interesting as that sounds," I said as I rolled my eyes. "I wanna hear more about you. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"**_

_**He shook his head, a pained look crossing his face. "I always wanted one, but no such luck. Mom and Dad didn't want to have another one after me."**_

"_**Because you were trouble enough?" I had teased.**_

_**He smirked dangerously. "You'll pay for that one."**_

"_**No!" I shrieked as he ran for me.**_

With a sigh of exhaustion, I leaned back against the wall. I would never be able to see Nate again. I would never get to hear his laugh or kiss his soft lips. He would never get to chase me or tease me again.

Or lie to me…

Was it true, I wondered? Did Nate really have a brother? If he did, then he had lied to me, which made me wonder what else he had lied to me about…

_Why are you doubting him?_ I asked myself. _Don't you love him?_

"Yes," I silently whispered as unshed tears stung at my eyes. "At least, I _did_."

No one was passing in the hallways; the mansion was dark and quiet. It was long past time for all students to be in bed, and yet, the rules didn't seem to apply to me anymore. I didn't go to any of my classes and I never showed up at mealtimes. Instead, I studied books quietly in the library and went to the chef whenever I got hungry, usually just opting for a bowl of cereal.

Could Dad have been lying? Maybe Dad still hated Nate so much, even in death, that he wanted me to think poorly of him. Maybe he wanted me to think that Nate had lied to me or kept something from me so that I would be convinced that my father would always know best.

At first, I eagerly agreed with the idea; but then, I actually thought it through. My dad wasn't that heartless. He wouldn't pretend about something this serious. He was mad – or, he had been – about Nate and me, but he had accepted it and he had been sorry for Nate's death.

No, my dad hadn't lied.

And that could only mean that Nate had.

I hung my head as I allowed a single tear to slip. Why would Nate lie to me? What could possibly be so bad about having a sibling? Possibilities flew through my mind so fast that I began to get a headache and I pulled my knees tightly to my chest, resting my head on top.

Footsteps sounded from down the hall, coming my direction, and my head snapped up. It was probably my mom or my dad looking for me (they had been checking on me at night when they thought I was asleep) so I got off of the window seat and turned to face them.

But it wasn't my parents.

It was Nate.

A smile took over my face and I ran at him. "Nate!" I jumped into his arms and he caught me. I was so happy to have him back that it took me a full three seconds before I caught the signs.

Nate smelled like Aeropostale cologne, not the scent that this guy was wearing. Nate never wore necklaces, and this guy had one on. Also, Nate's hair smelled like coconut, not apples.

Embarrassed, I got out of the guy's arms and examined him. It was so weird, he looked _exactly_ like Nate. He had the same eyes, the same dark, messy brown hair, even the same nose. I couldn't find a difference…..no; wait. He had a scar on his forehead that Nate didn't have; a slight scar right by his hairline beside his left temple.

"Sorry," I whispered, feeling sad all over again because Nate really was dead. And, apparently, he had a brother. A _twin_ brother.

The Nate look-alike smiled gently. "It's okay. I understand. You must be Layla."

"Did…um…did Nate tell you about me?" Saying his name was hard, not only because I missed him, but because I now felt a sort of resentment towards him for lying to me about his brother.

"No," he replied, some odd emotion flashing in his eyes when I mentioned Nate's name.

"Oh," I whispered softly, unable to keep my eyes off of him for reasons unknown.

"I'm Brian," he said, holding out a hand, which I shook. "I'm Nate's twin brother. But, I'm sure you gathered that much already."

"You look just like him," I agreed softly.

A small smile crossed his lips. "I sure hope I don't act like him."

Surprised, I asked, "Why not? Nate was a really great guy, he…"

Sadness crossed Brian's expression. "Oh no. Please don't tell me that he had you hooked as well."

"As well?" I asked, a lump forming in my throat. "What's that supposed to mean?" _As well?_

Brian rubbed the back of his neck and glanced from side to side nervously before looking at me again. "Well, you see….Nate's a little…"

"A little what?" I demanded, my voice sharper.

Brian noticed, his eyes widening only slightly. "Um, Nate's a little mental. Er, _was_, I mean."

"Mental?" I almost choked on the word. "You can't be serious."

"He spent most of his early teen years in an asylum." Brian said, clearly regretting having to tell me.

"A….an asylum?"

Brian merely nodded sheepishly.

"But…why?"

Brian reached up and touched the scar, looking upset and pained. "Because he tried to kill me."


	21. Chapter 21

21.

"I'm not sure you should be hearing this right now," Brian said as we walked. Both of us knew that we weren't going to be getting any sleep, so we opted instead to walk around the mansion.

"I have to know," I replied, glancing over at him as we walked. He walked the exact same way that Nate used to, hands barely in the pockets of his jeans and his shoulders slumped forward slightly. There were differences, too, though. Brian looked straight ahead when he walked, whereas Nate had always been glancing around, noticing things. Maybe that just meant that Nate was a better spy. "How many paintings have we passed?" I asked suddenly. I had no idea why I was giving him this ridiculous test, but I waited for his answer.

"Three," he responded quietly. "Would you like me to describe them?"

I shook my head. "No. Sorry."

The corners of his mouth pulled into a smile and he said, "Don't worry about it. But, tell me, are you sure that you want to hear this?"

I took a deep breath and moved towards another window seat to sit down. "Yes," I said determinedly, "I am."

Brian sighed and leaned against the wall, his hands still in the pockets of his jeans. "Alright, then. My twin and I grew up with our parents, who were both spies. They trained us from the time that we were really young. Just the usual, you know? We had to learn all these different languages and different styles of martial arts and sometimes we even had to solve a puzzle before we were allowed to go to sleep. I remember being forced to stay awake for three days once until I could finally solve it…"

"That's harsh," I interjected and then blushed. "Sorry."

He smiled at me kindly, much like the way Nate used to. "It's okay."

"By all means," I said, gesturing for him to continue.

He took a breath before he continued. "My brother was never…as good as me. Maybe you think that makes me sound arrogant, but I'm just stating facts. He had trouble with most of his dialects, but he hated when I tried to help him. He excelled in most martial arts, but Korean was never his specialty and he hated me for getting it. He always found reasons to hate me…"

I couldn't picture Nate hating anyone.

Brian must have seen my expression, because he gave me a sad look. "My brother was psychopathic, Layla."

"Psycho…" I struggled with the word. It didn't want to come from my mouth. My tongue felt like it was made of lead and I couldn't speak. No. Nate wasn't psychopathic. He loved me. He told me so lots of times…..he was always happy around me…..

Psychopathic.

"You're wrong."

He shook his head sadly and sighed. "No, I'm not. I wish I was, though. Regardless of what he did to me, I still loved my brother and I regretted it most sincerely when he…passed."

The way that he said the word made me see that he was taking his twin's death hard.

"Psychopathic…." I said. "I know what it means, but could you…."

He didn't need me to explain to him what I wanted him to do. "There was always something off about him," he said softly, staring out the window at the full moon. "My parents never saw it and I never felt the need to say anything. I didn't think that it was important. I thought that perhaps he just liked being alone or that he was just quiet. I thought that maybe his hatred for me was what made him not want to talk to me and give me those looks….."

He took a shuddering breath before he continued. "Turns out, he was just mentally unstable. One night, he couldn't take it anymore. He was angry at himself for not being able to get his Farsi phrases right. Dad was angry at him because he had been helping him one-on-one for several weeks and he still didn't have it down. I remember Dad saying 'why can't you be more like your brother?'. I think that was the final straw for Nate."

I swallowed and it burned my dry throat. I felt tears stinging at my eyes.

"Nate had had quite enough of me being better than him," Brian continued, still looking at the moon. "So, while I was asleep, he crept down to the kitchen and found the knife that Mother always used to cut watermelon and cantaloupe."

I didn't want to hear anymore, but I couldn't ask him to stop.

"He snuck into my room as quietly as he possibly could, but I still woke up. It was a bad fight and he managed to stab me near my temple right before Dad came in and saw what had happened. They rushed me to the hospital and by the time I had regained consciousness, they had sent Nate away. And I hated myself for it."

I said nothing.

"A little later, they sent me to a spy school in Germany. Actually, I kind of sent myself. I knew that they missed Nate a lot and it would be okay if I left, so I did. The doctors said that he was stable enough to come home. They considered him cured. But somehow, I just…knew that he wasn't."

"I never knew," I whispered, tears falling from my eyes and slowly gliding down my cheeks. "I thought that I knew him, but I really didn't. I thought that he loved me….but he never really did."

As I began to sob, Brian sat beside me on the window seat and pulled me into his arms. It was comforting and warm there; _safe_. He held me close and I cried into his shirt, finally realizing that I had been needing to lean on someone like that ever since Nate's death.

After about twenty minutes, I pulled away and awkwardly said, "I'm sorry."

Brian shook his head. "Don't be. We all need to be weak sometimes. Nate had a hard time understanding that."

I nodded before falling back into his arms to cry some more.


	22. Chapter 22

22.

"Check mate."

I sighed as I lost – yet again – to Brian. "One more time; I think I see what I'm doing wrong."

He obliged, setting up his pieces as I did to mine. I moved a pawn and then said, "So, what's the capital of Brunei?"

He snorted as he moved a pawn. "A quiz? Really?"

"Not up for it?"

He sighed. "Bandar Seri Begawan."

"Square root of ninety-seven-thousand-nine-hundred-and-sixty-nine?"

"Three-hundred-and-thirteen," he replied easily. "How 'bout a challenging question?"

"If a plane-"

"You don't bury survivors," he said and my mouth fell open in shock. How had he known I was going to ask that?

He smirked in a way that was so similar to Nate. "I'm just _that_ good."

I rolled my eyes and moved my knight. "So what city-"

"Nope," he said. "My turn."

"Fine," I said, ready to outsmart him.

He moved a bishop before he asked, "What brand of shoe am I wearing?"

"Nike," I replied easily.

"Am I right-handed or left-handed?"

I scoffed. That was too easy. I had been able to figure that out since I was three. "Right."

"Well, technically I'm ambidextrous, but I am naturally right handed, so I'll let you have that one."

I rolled my eyes and moved a pawn.

"Where have I left fingerprints, other than the chess set?"

"The edge of the table and the doorknob," I replied.

"Last question," he replied, smiling at me in a sort of mischievous way. "Are you ready for this?"

"Bring it," I said eagerly, leaning forward slightly.

"How many moves away from check mate am I?"

I looked at the board, surprised. He had been distracting me with his questions and I hadn't paid close enough attention to where the game was going. With a sigh, I said, "One."

He smirked. "It's okay. Chess can't be everyone's game."

I rolled my eyes at him and said, "Let's do something else."

He nodded his agreement. "Name it."

Lots of people found it strange that I would want to spend so much time with Brian. My mother found it worrisome. _"You can't just hang around him because it brings back memories of Nate,"_ she had told me in her office one evening.

But that's not why I chose to spend time with Brian. Brian and I were both going through loss, and it was just easier to cope if you had someone there with you. And Brian was really good about keeping my mind far away from Nate. Brian was surprisingly insightful and he taught me a lot of things that I probably never would have learned at Gallagher.

Speaking of Gallagher, I still hadn't returned to normal classes. I spent most of my time prowling the halls with Brian or reading in the library. I was learning a surprising amount and I knew that I would be ready for my career with the CIA – who had already offered me a job with them.

"Let's go work out in the P&E barn," I said after a glance at the clock. "No one'll be in there for another hour and a half."

He agreed and we headed that way, talking about how nice it was outside. I vaguely remembered feeling so dead after Nate's death and wondered how I'd bounced back so fast. But I knew. _Brian_.

Brian had his own personal sun, I was inclined to think. He was always upbeat and had a smile on his face. I found his presence extremely calming and I considered him a close friend, even though we hadn't really known each other for all that long. Nate's death had brought us together, and it was so powerful, I guess, that we were just instantly connected. It had been two months, and Brian and I were already close.

Whatever the reason, though, I was glad that I felt better. I realized that the time of depression after Nate's death was actually quite scary, and I was glad that I was over it.

Brian and I warmed up with simple punch and kick combinations, practicing first on our own punching bags. It felt good to be exercising. Brian and I had been going for evening runs every night, but we hadn't really had a good martial arts workout in a while.

I finished warming up before he did and stood back to watch, marveling in the almost graceful way that he seemed to move. He wore no shirt anymore, just a simple pair of black basketball shorts, and his muscles gleamed with sweat. His hair was even darker because it was wet and when he finally stopped, he smiled, "I always wear myself out from warming up."

"It's a balance," I said, shrugging and smiling.

We both got a drink of water and rested for a couple of minutes, talking about interesting fights that we'd been in before. Then, Brian asked, "Want to do a little sparring?"

I considered it for a second, my lips pressed into a line.

"I'll go easy on you," he said with a wink.

I rolled my eyes. "What a gentleman. Sure; help me up."

He did and we faced each other on the mat. I began immediately, kicking out, which he blocked easily. "Really?" he teased, bouncing away energetically. "_That_ was what you choose to go with for your first attack? That was _pathetic_."

I threw a quick series of kicks, one of which knocked him off of his feet. He was back on them within seconds, though, and we were sparring again, punches and kicks flying everywhere. I did a roundhouse kick and knocked him down, but he knocked my feet out from under me at the same time.

We both fell and he landed on top of me, managing to catch himself at the last minute so that he wouldn't crush me. His warm breath fanned my already warm face and he smiled, "That was a little better."

"A _little_?" I asked softly. "You're down, aren't you?"

"But so are you," he retorted.

I was about to say something else, but suddenly his lips were on mine and my smart comment was forgotten.


	23. Chapter 23

23.

_Did that just happen?_

_Why, yes. Yes, it did._

The kiss lasted a meager five seconds, but it was enough to make my brain feel fried. He pulled away and looked into my eyes for a full ten seconds before he slowly rose, getting to his feet. Then, he held out a hand and I took it, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

We stood there for a moment, both of us shocked and not knowing what we should do. I mean, what would _you_ do if your dead ex-boyfriend's twin brother kissed you?

Exactly.

Finally, he stepped closer and pushed a strand of loose hair away from my face and behind my ear. His breath was warm on my face and I realized that I wanted to feel his lips on mine again. I wanted him to kiss me.

But _why_?

I don't know.

There was just something about the way he had kissed me…it was so different from when Nate kissed me, but I couldn't even begin to tell you how. There was just obviously a difference.

Maybe you think I'm a horrible person. Maybe I should have felt guilty for liking Nate's brother. Maybe I should have felt bad for kissing him when Nate hadn't been gone for all that long. Maybe I should have cried in a corner and called myself all kinds of ugly names, but I couldn't.

Because I didn't feel guilty.

It didn't feel wrong; it felt totally right.

"Wow, um…" he said and suddenly I began to panic. Was I not good enough? Had it been too awkward for him? Did I do something wrong?

He must have read the questions on my face. "No, no! Nothing bad! I just…" he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Layla, are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, Nate hasn't been dead for that long and you really just found out some horrible news about him and…"

"Oh," I said, feeling my heart sink.

"I liked kissing you," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to smile. "Really, I did. I just don't know if it's best for you right now. Or me."

I stood there stupidly, unsure of what to say. I liked him, obviously, but I didn't want to grab onto him and beg him to give a relationship with me a chance. I had more dignity that that, after all, and there was no way that I was going to ask him to do something that he didn't want to do.

He sighed. "Look, in all honesty, this is about your dad."

My head shot up and I looked at him. "What? What's that mean?"

He ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "Your dad talked to me the other night. He told me about your relationship with Nate – how it was a secret and everything – and that if I tried to pull anything like that, he'd make sure that I'd be breathing out of a tube for the rest of my life."

Leave it to my dad to make threats like that. It was so typical for him that I almost smiled. Almost. "Look, he's just-"

Brian interrupted. "I know, but then he said something about me looking so much like Nate that your brain might be trying to trick you into believing that-"

"I know you're not Nate," I said coolly. And I did. I knew that Nate was dead and I had accepted it.

"I know," he said softly. "Let's just give it time, okay?"

"You kissed me," I said, saying it like you would say 'you just punched me in the face'.

He sighed and looked down at his black Nike shoes. "Yeah, Layla, I know. I couldn't help myself, I just…" he sighed again and looked up at me, looking truly sorry. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have done that."

I felt like he was stabbing me over and over again. My insides turned cold and I couldn't even understand the words he was saying; it was like they were going through a voice changer before they reached my ears, the sounds so warped that I couldn't make them out. I felt sick to my stomach, much like the time in seventh grade when I had tested one of Dr. Fibbs' experiments that was supposed to be anti-gravity but was apparently anti-food.

Why was he hurting me? I had just gotten myself back together and he was hurting me, ripping at the pieces that I had worked so hard to put together. The pieces that he had _helped_ me put back together. I would rather him have just not kissed me as opposed to the alternative.

"You shouldn't have done that," I repeated his words, not liking the way they tasted in my mouth; like vinegar and bile. They felt like lead in my mouth and I wanted to choke on them. Tears were stinging my eyes but I refused to let them fall. He wouldn't get to see me cry; not when he was the one causing the pain.

Gallagher Girl Rule Number 7: Don't show weakness to your opponent.

_When did he become the opponent?_

"Layla…" Brian seemed to be struggling for words. "I didn't mean it like that. I told you, I liked kissing you."

"Then what _did_ you mean?" I asked, honestly wanting the real answer.

He sighed. "I already told you – I just don't know if we should be doing this right now."

This. What was _this_? Kissing? Being friends? Being around each other at all? "Give me a reason that can't be worked around."

He tried to think for a minute before he said, "I don't want to hurt you."

"That's what you're doing," I said softly, looking at my shoes.

"Screw it," he growled in frustration and I found myself being lifted off of the ground. The next second, my back was against the wall and his lips were on mine heatedly, with passion that hadn't been there before.


	24. Chapter 24

24.

"I still think this is a really bad idea," he stated simply as we headed to get some breakfast. It had been decided – well, my mother had suggested it and the doctors had agreed – that I would begin attending classes again. I didn't really look forward to it. In fact, sometimes I wondered if I really wanted to be in the spy business anymore. I could have gone into a different profession just as easily. I could go to college anywhere I wanted – Harvard, Yale, Dartmouth – and get a degree and become the world's most successful surgeon or something. I didn't have to continue spy training.

But, on the other hand, something inside of me still wanted to. Something inside of me demanded that I continue my spy training. It was, after all, what I hade been raised to do. It was natural for me, and I knew that I would always be looking over my shoulder checking for tails anyway. Part of me would never be able to stop being a spy. I would always be one, whether it was my real profession or not.

"Then don't do it," I said, shrugging simply.

He squeezed my hand gently. "No, I want to, it's just…"

"Look, I would suggest keeping it a secret, but that's how Nate and I started and look what happened there."

He let go of my hand to put his arm around my waist and pull me closer to him. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry; you're right."

I smiled. "Of course I am."

"You're dad's gonna kill me."

"Of course he is," I smiled teasingly and Brian stuck his tongue out at me. "_Very_ mature, Brian."

"Well," he said, sounding like someone who felt very confident about himself. "I don't like to brag, but I _am_ extremely mature for my age."

I hit his shoulder playfully and he returned to holding my hand. His hand felt a lot like Nate's, soft and warm, and it was almost strange how much they were alike. I mean, they looked exactly the same and their voices were so similar that the only difference I could pick out was that Brian had a slight German accent. Sometimes it wasn't noticeable, but when he wasn't really paying attention to how he was speaking, it would come out. It was cute.

"What are _you_ smiling about?" he asked me, kissing my temple quickly.

"You," I replied. "I didn't think I'd be happy for a long time, but here I am."

Brian laughed softly. "Yes, here you are. And here I am, probably doing something very immoral."

"Where's the rule that says that you can't date your twin's ex-girlfriend?" I challenged as we rounded a corner. We were getting close to the dining hall. I could hear people talking.

"I don't think _that's_ the immoral part," he said. "It's that Nate's only been dead for about a month."

I shrugged. "Nate was also a liar."

"And you loved him," Brian pointed out, no longer walking. He faced me, our fingers no longer intertwined, and he was looking at me carefully to gauge my reaction.

I stared evenly back at him, feeling no need to lie. "Yes, I did. But turns out, I was in love with someone that didn't exist."

The corners of his mouth pulled up slightly. "Yes, that's true. So, you were in love with…"

"A lie."

He tilted his head and said, "Yeah, I guess that's about right."

"It's _exactly_ right," I contradicted. "And you know it."

"Do I?" his eyes danced merrily and his voice was teasing now.

I reached out and ran my fingers through his soft, messy brown hair. He closed his eyes and exhaled softly. "I like when you do that," he commented. We'd only been "dating" for a few days and yet, we already had the little things down. Simple touches, sweet kisses, meeting places…

"Do ya now?" I asked, smiling.

"Mmm," he replied nonchalantly as he leaned closer and kissed me gently.

When he pulled away, I said, "I like when you do that."

He laughed softly. "Come on; you need breakfast before your first day back in class. Exams are in less than three weeks and you need to get caught up." He grabbed my hand and we began walking again.

"Aren't you going to ask if I brushed my teeth this morning, Mom?"

He winked at me. "You did."

I blushed slightly, which caused him to smirk.

"Swahili," he commented, pointing up to the board above the doors.

I sighed. "I hate Swahili."

"I hate German," Brian shrugged. "Imagine having to speak that every day for seven years."

"Seven?"

He shrugged again as he began walking forward, still holding my hand. "Our school starts in sixth grade, not seventh."

"Oh."

The dining hall was loud – girls laughing, applying makeup, eating, and talking. Brian and I moved among them without being noticed, until we reached my friends. Beth stared from Brian, to me, and back to Brian again in shock. Jamie's eyes were zoned in our hands joined together. Sarah looked at me closely, reading my expression.

Beth spoke first. "Well, this should thrill your dad."

We all laughed and Brian and I took a seat. Jamie pushed a plate of food across to me. "We've been expecting you."

"Brian," Sarah added, pulling her hair into a high ponytail. "Get your own."

"So hospitable," Brian muttered playfully before kissing my cheek quickly and walking towards the buffet spread out.

I waited, knowing that my friends would have something to say.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Jamie asked nervously. "I mean, Nate hasn't been dead that long and Brian is his twin…"

"So?" I asked, buttering my toast.

"So…" Jamie didn't seem to want to finish her thought.

"So," Sarah supplied as she checked her reflection in a small mirror. "Are you sure that you like him for _him_, or just because he reminds you of Nate?"

"Of course I like him for him," I said before biting into my toast.

"Okay," Beth said. "I'm proud of you for not being secretive this time, but please, be careful, okay?"

"I have you three looking out for me," I smiled and they all did too. "I'll be fine."

The bell rang and I groaned.

They laughed and Jamie reached out to grab my arm and pull me along with her.


	25. Chapter 25

25.

"Okay, so, when you're being followed by someone using the Gozinski Method, you should always…" I leafed through the pages of my book, my right hand holding a pen and poised above my open notebook. I had forgotten exactly how much I'd hated homework until I had it again. And I had extra, considering the exams that were coming up.

"Find a crowd and blend," Brian spoke up from my bed. "But _never_ quit moving."

He finished his sentence just as I found that exact answer in the book. I looked over at the bed; he was lying on his back, his hands joined together and resting on his stomach. His eyes were closed and his hair was as messy as ever. I smiled. "Show off."

He smiled, though his eyes remained closed. "I suppose, if that's what you want to call it. How much more do you have to do?"

I wrote down the answer and put the paper away. Now, I had C.O.W. and C&A left. But, I decided to leave it be for now. "None."

He sat up and finally opened his eyes, raising an eyebrow. "None? You're done?"

"Yep!" I lied gleefully, shutting my book and standing to cross over to the bed. I was glad that Brian and I hadn't decided to go down for dinner. I sat down beside him and flashed him a flirtatious smile before kissing him. He seemed a little confused, but he kissed me back, cupping my face with one hand and wrapping his other arm around my waist to pull me closer. I wrapped both arms around his neck, glad for the release from homework. I felt all of my stress melting away like butter in the microwave and it felt so good.

He pulled away for what I thought was breath, but he took the opportunity to ask, "Are you sure you're done with your homework?" One thing that I had noticed was a definite difference between Nate and Brian was that Nate jumped on me whenever the opportunity arose, whereas Brian was a little more prude. I wasn't sure whether or not I liked it better. I just wanted him to kiss me. I liked kissing him. It felt just as good as kissing Nate had and I wanted to do it forever.

I rolled my eyes. "Would I lie to you?"

He smiled. "You're a spy; so, yes."

I sighed. "I have, like, two papers left to do, but I can do them later."

"You should do them now," he said, but he was smiling.

"Yes, Mother, I'll get right on that," I replied before capturing his lips once more. He kissed me back for a moment before pulling away again. I sighed, a little frustrated. "What now?"

He smirked. "You should take a chill pill."

I rolled my eyes.

"You need to finish your homework," he said. "It's important. It'll help you with your exams in three weeks and those exams are important. Pass your exams and that's a one-way ticket to the CIA."

"The CIA has already offered me a job," I reminded him. "They already want me as an agent."

"Yes," he agreed. "_But_, if you fail your exams, they might change their minds. In fact, I would say it's more than likely."

I sighed. "Is that just an excuse so that you won't have to kiss me?"

He pressed his lips firmly to mine. "Absolutely not. I could kiss you all day every day."

"Good." I kissed him and he pulled back again, irritating me.

He saw the look on my face and chuckled softly, reaching up to brush my hair away from my face. "Just because you _can_ do something, doesn't mean that you should."

"My father always used to tell me that," I replied. "The first time was when I was in first grade and this boy was being mean to one of my friends so I roundhouse kicked him."

"You were evil even then," he teased.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, "I suppose I'll do my homework."

"Good plan." He laid back on the bed, assuming his prior position, eyes closed. I sighed as I made my way over to the desk and started working on my Culture homework. It was ridiculous, really, mostly about the different types of dances that you'd find in different countries. It took me nearly thirty minutes and I wondered vaguely what was keeping my friends. And then, I realized that Uncle Solomon was taking all of the seniors – except for me because I had so much homework that needed to be done – out to Roseville for surveillance practice.

I finally finished and moved on to C.O.W. homework. Brian hadn't said a word for the whole forty-five minutes that I had been working and I began to think that Nate would have already tried to get me to quit doing homework to make out with him. Did that just mean that Brian cared about me more? Or did that mean that Nate was more passionate and therefore, better for me?

I sighed and then stood up, quietly walking over to the bed. I laid beside Brian and kissed him. He seemed surprised at first and then he kissed me back. This time he didn't move away, probably because he figured I was finished with my homework and it was okay. After a few minutes of kissing, I moved my hands to the hem of his shirt, intending to pull it off.

"Layla, stop," he said, pulling away gently.

"Why?" I pouted.

He sighed as he sat up and straightened his shirt. "I don't think we should be doing this right now."

"My roommates won't be back for another couple of hours," I said.

He shook his head and ran a hand roughly through his dark and now intensely messy hair. "That's not it."

"Then what is?"

"You're…" he sighed. "Your dad was talking to me and he was telling me that the doctors said that you're too fragile for this right now."

"I'm not fragile!" I shrieked, standing up, my fists clenched at my side.

He looked at me sadly and spoke softly. "I care about you, Layla; a lot. But they don't think you can handle something like this right now. It'll mess with your head."

"My head's fine!" I yelled, feeling my face grow hot with anger.

He sighed. "Maybe I should leave you alone to cool off." He approached me, kissed my forehead quickly, and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.


	26. Chapter 26

26.

I was so sick of it. Sick of them all. Sick of my friends giving me concerned looks when they thought that I couldn't see them. Sick of all the teachers offering to give me extra help if I needed them to help me catch up. Sick of Brian kissing me like I was completely breakable and always pulling away too soon. Sick of Uncle Solomon giving me that intense, studious stare of his. Sick of my father popping in all of the time "just to visit". Sick of my mother, calling me into her office at least twice a day just to "see how things are going". Sick of the doctors poking me and prodding me and telling me that my reflexes were getting back to normal, but that I was still suffering from PTSD. Apparently, my yelling that I was fine didn't do much to convince them.

Sick. Sick. Sick. Sick.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted everything to go back to normal; maybe even to before I met Nate. To when I was just a happy spy in training that would someday go on to become a very important member of the CIA. I had my life all planned out. But this…none of this was a part of the plan.

"Layla!" I could hear someone calling my name. But I wasn't coming out and I doubted that they would be able to find me. I knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone, even my mother. And I was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that she didn't know about the one I was hiding in at the moment. It was a passageway within a passageway, so to speak. All you had to do was move a section of the bookshelf and the wall spun, leading you into a passageway that led to the West Wing. Within the passageway, there was a section that moved if you pressed against it hard enough. That's where I sat, staring at the cold stone wall and hating myself and my life.

Don't think that I was suicidal; I definitely wasn't. But, I still wanted to escape. I wanted to escape the looks and stares. The too-kind words and the sympathies. The special treatment and the doctor visits to the infirmary.

The dreams.

Nate visited me every night in my dreams now. At first, it scared me and I was never able to stay asleep for very long. Eventually, though, I grew used to his appearances and I often counted on them. Seeing him again, even though it was only in my dreams, made me feel good. It felt like – even if only for a little while – my life was normal again. I could be happy with Nate. No one would worry about me not being able to handle anything anymore.

And then I would wake up.

"Layla!"

I sighed. The voice was so muffled that it was a miracle that I could hear it at all. Oh well; it didn't matter. I wasn't going to come out until I was ready. And that would be a while. I needed to be alone; away from it all.

"I don't blame you," a voice said and I gave a mini-scream as I whipped my upper body around to spot Uncle Solomon, who had just come through the secret door without a sound. Sometimes, he amazed me. His purple shirt was specked with dust, as were his jeans and black shoes. His blond hair was messy in its usual way and his green eyes were as bright as ever. He gave me a small smile. "Sorry. Can I join you?"

I shrugged and turned back to face the wall. "How did you find me?"

"Well, your mother was talking about secret passages and I told her I'd take this one."

"She doesn't know about this one," I answered.

"No," he agreed. "She doesn't. But, no one has apparently used the passageway out there for a while because there's a lot of dust. And dust means…" He trailed off like he always did in CoveOps when he wanted a question answered.

"Footprints," I realized. "I didn't bring a duster; I wasn't thinking."

He sighed as he sat down beside me, drawing his knees up to his chest like mine were. We sat in silence for a while. I had expected a lecture, maybe, but he didn't say a word. The only sound was his even breathing and my own breaths.

After what must have been twenty minutes, he said, "I know how you feel, you know."

"Do you?" I said flatly.

He sighed. "Yes. When I was thirteen, I watched my mother die."

Uncle Solomon had never really revealed that much about his past, so I looked at him, shocked. "You…you did?"

He nodded, still staring at the wall. "Dad was really cold after that. All he cared about was me being the best spy that I could be. Training me so that I wouldn't get killed like her…"

"I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling tears sting at my eyes. I rubbed at them, aggravated. No wonder people thought I was so weak!

As if he'd read my mind, he looked at me and gave me a small smile. "You're not weak, Tiny."

I sighed. "No; just stupid."

He laughed. "You're a teenager. It happens. I joined the Circle when I was sixteen. We all do stupid stuff at that age."

I looked back at the wall. "Brian thinks I'm fragile. That's what the doctors say."

"And are you?" he asked.

I looked at him, surprised. "You're asking _me_?"

He nodded. "You're the only one that can know how you feel. _Are _you fragile?"

I thought about that for a moment and then looked back at the wall, choosing not to answer. He nodded, understanding. "You should know, Layla, that we're all worried about you. Especially Brian. He came to talk to me last night about you."

"He did?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded and looked at me, giving me a smile. "I think that kid loves you. So, naturally, I had to give him a good talking-to."

I rolled my eyes. "What did you tell him?"

"I can't tell you that, Tiny. That's between me and him. But what I'm telling _you_ is: you're in control, even when it feels like it's all slipped away. I've been there, done that. It gets easier in time, I promise."

He stood up. "Well, those are my words of wisdom for the day. I'm going to go tell your mom to call off the search party and then have some dinner. I hear we're having Mexican tonight."

"Are you going to tell her where I am?"

Uncle Solomon flashed me a smile, pausing at the exit. "No. Everyone needs a place to be alone."

"Where's yours?" I asked, curious.

His face fell into a frown. "Your Aunt Abby won't let me have one."


	27. Chapter 27

27.

I took a deep breath and checked my reflection in the window. I wore a gray polo, jeans, and black flats. My dark brown hair was in a sleek, high ponytail and I wore light makeup. I took a deep breath and walked into the library, finding him immediately. He wore a crimson and white checkered shirt, jeans, and brown loafers. His dark hair was messier than usual and he was staring down intently at the book that was open on the table in front of him.

"Hey," I said softly.

He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw me. "Hi."

I gestured to the chair across from him. "May I sit?"

"Sure," he nodded, watching me closely as if I were a walking bomb that was about to go off. He had every right to feel that way. I had, after all, yelled at him for caring about me; I had been wrong. I was surprised that he was even talking to me. Then again, Uncle Solomon had said that Brian had gone to talk to him and had acted like he loved me.

Loved me.

I sat in the chair and rested my elbows on the table, intertwining my fingers together nervously. Brian didn't seem mad; his expression was neutral. That could be a good or bad sign. After a deep breath, I said, "I'm really sorry. For snapping at you the other day." I didn't know if the clarification was needed, but I put it in there, just in case.

He nodded slowly, waiting to see if I was done.

I wasn't. "It's just…I…I guess that I wanted so badly to prove to everyone that I wasn't fragile that I ended up…"

"Making yourself fragile," he finished wisely for me.

I smiled at him, though it wasn't one of happiness. It was wry. "Yes; that's exactly what I did."

He nodded slowly. "I understand and I accept your apology."

"Really?" I asked, surprised, a now happy grin on my face. I had expected it to be much harder. I had expected him to be angry and giving me the cold shoulder. I had expected to have to beg on my knees. But it wasn't that hard.

He smiled. "Yes. But I need to ask you a question."

"Okay," I said slowly, guarded. I had been a spy-in-training for too long to have not been cautious.

He leaned forward, sending the smell of his Fierce cologne wafting my direction. I breathed it in subtly. He rested his arms on the table, his palms flat against the fake wood and his biceps falling over the book he had been reading. His fingertips were only centimeters away from mine, but I could sense that he didn't want to touch me quite yet. He wanted to say what he had to say first. His pale eyes met my bright green ones and he asked, "Do you think that it's a sign of weakness to be upset? Or to have people looking after you?"

That was an odd question, I couldn't help but think. Where was that coming from? "No," I answered, confused. "Why?"

"Your uncle talked to me," he admitted. "And he told me that you've never really liked to be helped. That you've always wanted to do everything on your own. That you're independent and headstrong, just like your father. And his theory is-"

"Uncle Solomon has a theory?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded.

"Sorry; didn't meant to interrupt," I said. "Continue."

He gave a small smile. "Well, anyway, his theory is that you finally let someone in."

"Nate," I whispered.

Brian nodded. "You trusted Nate and then after he was gone, you realized that he hadn't really cared for you at all. And it hurt you; you withdrew into your little shell and your own safe little world. You realized that doing everything yourself really was the way to go. And then I came along, and now, you're just confused. You don't know if you should trust me or not and you're kind of half-in, half-out right now."

That actually made sense and I found myself thinking over his words. Uncle Solomon's wise words of wisdom. "What else did he tell you?" I asked.

He smiled. "Threatened me a bit."

"_Threatened?_"

He shrugged. "I'm used to it; terrorists and such. He just said that if I ever hurt you, he'd…well…anyway-"

"No," I said, smiling. "I think I want to hear this."

"Well, er," he mumbled. "It's not really…I mean…"

Now I was laughing. "No, I really want to hear this."

"Well," he said, his expression growing serious. "First, I need to say that I don't want to hurt you; ever. The only reason that I was following the doctors' advice was because I didn't want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. And when you yelled at me…well…" he gave me a sheepish smile. "I kind of started to think that they were right."

"They're not," I said, quietly. "It bothered me when you said that because I thought it was just an excuse because you didn't want me."

He gave me a sad look. "I'm sorry. That wasn't why I said that."

"I know that now," I replied. "I was being naïve and I'm sorry."

He nodded slowly. "Okay, once again, I accept your apology. And I'm sorry, too. From now on, I'll take your word for how you are instead of listening to the doctors." He took my hand and the warmth made me smile.

"Deal," I said. "And I forgive you."

He grinned at me, showing me his too-straight and too-perfect teeth. "Excellent."

I nodded and then my smile turned sly, "So, what did my uncle threaten you with?"

His expression changed to one of reluctance. "Well…it was really kind of a detailed list…"

"Let's hear it."

He sighed in defeat. "Well, he said he'd gouge my eyes out with a toothbrush first, and then he'd knock my teeth out one by one. Then, he said he'd break every single one of my ribs and use a table saw to break off my legs."

I bit back a laugh. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nodded slowly and faked cheerfulness. "But at least he'll leave my arms alone!"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't let him scare you."

"He doesn't," Brian replied. "I'm not worried about it. Lunch?"

"Sure," I said, standing. But as he took my hand to lead me away, I saw the title of the book he'd been reading: _How to Properly Protect Your Eyes In a Fight_.

I smirked.


	28. Chapter 28

28.

"You look a little peaky."

I whirled around, shocked. "Nate?" I wasn't quite sure how I felt about seeing him again; actually, I wasn't sure how I was _supposed_ to feel. Should I be angry at him for lying to me? Sad about our separation? I wasn't sure.

But I was quite sure that it was him; not Brian. Brian didn't wear striped shirts ever – it was just an odd quirk of his. Brian also didn't smell like Aeropostale cologne, the cologne that I could definitely smell wafting towards me form the figure in front of me. He wore a black polo, jeans, and brown loafers and his messy dark hair was so familiar. His eyes bored into mine and he was exactly the same: same corner of his mouth pulled into a slight smile, same hands in his pockets, same slight tilt of the head to the left.

Nate.

"What are you doing here?" I sounded more confident than I felt. I even put my hands on my hips, adding to the image.

He shrugged and smiled easily. Smiling had always been easy for Nate. "You don't want me here?"

I tried to say 'no', but the word just wouldn't come out. I opened my mouth and tried to say it over and over again, but it was just like I was on mute. "What the hell?" Well, those words had worked.

Nate laughed lightly and my stomach clenched itself into a small knot. I had forgotten how different Nate and Brian's laughs were. Brian's laughs were soft and simple; Nate's were louder and more musical. "You can't say something that you don't mean, Layla."

I turned angrily and sank onto the soft grass, looking out across the lake. The water was crystal clear and a deep, beautiful blue – like Nate's/Brian's eyes. Flowers were growing and butterflies flew among the nectar-seeking bees. Birds chirped and grasshoppers flitted around in a playful manner. Everything was so happy and peaceful…except for me.

"Go away," I said softly, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

"I can't do that," he replied gently. "You see, there are some things that need to be said. And you've waited too long to admit them to yourself. I'm here to help."

"Help," I scoffed. "You're a liar. Nothing but a liar."

"I really wish you didn't feel that way," he said, coming to sit beside me, keeping a distance of about ten inches.

"Well, I do."

He nodded slowly. "You have every right to think that, though not for the reasons you may think. Congratulations, by the way. You always wanted to be a spy for the CIA. Sounds like you got your dream."

I nodded. "Graduation was only two months ago. The CIA offered me a job on the spot."

"How could they not?" he asked, reaching out his hand. A beautiful orange butterfly flew into it and he smiled down at it.

"Next," I said.

He laughed softly. "You never were one to beat around the bush."

"Next," I repeated.

"Are you so sure that being with Brian is a good idea?"

"Yes," I replied, standing up. Brian had asked me to marry him shortly after graduation and though I knew it was quick, I had agreed. I loved him and he loved me. Why shouldn't we be together? I walked to the edge of the water and found several smooth, flat stones. I threw the first one the way that my father had taught me, but it hadn't worked very well; it only skipped once. I sighed.

"Really?" Nate asked in a surprise voice, still exactly where I left him, the butterfly now gone from his hand.

I straightened my light blue blouse and my short shorts. I skipped another rock and once again, it only skipped once. Usually, I was good at skipping rocks. "Really," I said as I reached up to run a hand through my wavy brown hair.

"Does he know how you think?" he asked, but before I could answer, he stood up and approached the water's edge. "Does he know if you like the crusts of your sandwiches? Does he know what your favorite cartoon character was when you were little or what your favorite method of tailing is? Does he know who you really are?"

"Yes," I bit back angrily. "He knows _exactly_ who I am, thanks."

Nate shrugged and bent to pick up a stone. When he tossed it, it bounced three times before sinking into the water. I stared at the ripple and said, "Why are you really here?"

"I have to admit," he said as he threw another stone; this one bouncing four times. "I'd have thought that you would have figured it out by now."

"Figured what out?" I questioned, looking at him.

He smiled but didn't respond, choosing instead to skip another stone.

I sighed. "I don't understand."

"Don't understand what?" he asked in the same tone that Nate had always used to ask me about my day. Like he wanted to hear every detail. Like he cared.

"_Anything_." I groaned in frustration as I sank back down onto the ground and put my face in my hands. "Why did all of this have to happen? Why can't everything just be okay again?"

"Because life isn't fair," he answered wisely.

I looked back up to find him staring intently at me. "We don't have much more time, so listen closely."

"What do you mean we don't have much more time? How do you know?" I asked, looking around.

He knelt down in front of me and took my face in his warm hands. "Layla, listen to me, please. You don't know what you're doing. You're confused and you're making a _huge_ mistake. You have to protect yourself, Layla; from everything."

"How did you find me?" I interrupted.

He gave me a sweet smile that was also sad, in a way. "I never left, Layla. The ones we love never truly leave us. I'm always right here."

"Nate…"

My eyes flew open and I sat up quickly in bed. I looked around the room and recognized it as my own. My covers were deep purple and I saw my mahogany dresser in the corner with a mirror hanging above it. The alarm clock told me that it was 3:43 a.m. and I sighed.

It had all been a dream.

But it had felt so real…

"Layla?" Brian sat up in bed, his voice a little muddled by sleep. "Layla, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I'm fine; just a bad dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," I shook my head. "I think I'd rather not."

He nodded slowly and ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. "Okay, then. You should try to get back to sleep."

I nodded and let him pull me against his chest. As I closed my eyes again, I wondered why it felt so weird all of a sudden to be pressed against his chest. Ignoring a small voice in the back of my head that sounded suspiciously like Nate's voice, I snuggled closer to Brian and fell asleep.


	29. Chapter 29

29.

The dream still clouded my mind the next morning when I got up for breakfast. I moved into the kitchen, his words playing over and over in my head and the concerned look on his face becoming a permanent image in my mind's eye. I got down the package of muffin mix and got out the milk. As I cut open the small package, I wondered if the only reason Nate had appeared in my dream was because I was stressed.

I was going to be going on a mission in a few short hours and my mind knew that and was stressed about it. It would be my first "official" mission and I couldn't help but feel nervous, though I knew that I was well prepared. So, maybe I was so stressed that my mind just created a really random scene for me.

Other option: it was real and it was a warning. _There are some things that need to be said. And you've waited too long to admit them to yourself_. So, was it just my subconscious trying to tell me something? I mean, I had never believed in the whole ghosts and haunting thing. Nate couldn't have penetrated into my dream. He was dead. He'd been dead for a while now.

I poured the muffin mix evenly into the muffin pan and then put it into the oven. I set the timer and sighed as I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms on my chest, still thinking about my dream. I had dreamed about Nate since he had died, of course, but it had always been just a replay of his death. It was never as peaceful as it had been the night before. Still, I refused to believe that it was some sign of Nate coming back from beyond the grave to warn me about something. I didn't need to be warned. Nothing was wrong.

"You okay?" Brian asked, scratching his head as he came into the kitchen. He wore only pajama pants and his body was well toned. He had been accepted into the CIA, too, and he had been working out harder than ever.

"Fine," I said, forcing a smile.

"You seem stressed," he replied, looking me over carefully.

I shook my head. "Nope. Right as rain, thanks."

"You're stressed," he concluded. "And distracted."

"How do you figure?" I asked.

He pointed to the oven. "You're trying to cook muffins and the oven isn't even on."

I blushed as I moved to correct the error. "Just a blond moment."

"You're not blond."

"So what? Anyone can have blond moments."

He shrugged and moved to wrap his arms around me. "Maybe this mission isn't such a good idea; it's stressing you out."

"It's a _very_ good idea," I replied, moving out of his arms to load the dishwasher with dirty dishes. "I'll be fine."

"If you say so." He leaned against the counter to watch me.

The muffins were ready shortly and we each took some to eat. When I was done, I went to go take a shower and I was in there for a while, letting the hot water just run over me and soothe my tense muscles. It helped at first, but as soon as I got out, I felt tense again. Some part of my mind was paying attention to Nate's – no, _my dream's_ – warning.

I pulled on jeans and a red Hollister shirt before pulling my hair into a high ponytail with braided-back bangs and a little bit of makeup on my face. I took a few deep breaths as I stared into the mirror. "You can do this, Layla," I told myself. "It was just a dream. Just a dream."

After a few more deep breaths, I walked out of the bathroom and into the living room. I hadn't put on shoes yet, so Brian hadn't heard me enter. He was sitting on the couch, staring intently at the phone in his hands. Wait a second…that was _my_ phone.

Why was he looking at my phone? I could see him, scrolling through something. My text messages, maybe? My calls? Was he suspicious of me? Did he think I was cheating? "Um, Brian, what are you doing?" I asked.

He jumped and looked at me the way that guilty people do, trying to compose his face quickly. "You scared me," he forced a laugh, though it sounded very convincing. "You had a phone call. I was checking it for you."

"Who was it?" I asked.

"Wrong number," he shrugged. "It was weird."

No; the only thing weird was that he was going through my phone. I held out my hand. "Can I have it back?"

"Sure," he said, holding out my phone. I took it and made a mental note to go through it later.

"Thanks," I said softly. "I should probably get going."

"Without shoes?" he asked, looking pointedly at my feet.

"I'm about to grab some," I replied, heading for the bedroom.

He followed. "So, where did you say your mission is?"

"I didn't," I replied as I opened the closet door and turned on the light. "The director doesn't want me to say anything to anyone, not even you. He seems to think it's safer."

"I wouldn't tell anyone," he said.

"I know," I replied as I grabbed some simple Nike tennis shoes. "But it's classified; you understand that, right?"

He nodded slowly. "I guess. I'm just concerned for you."

"I understand that," I replied as I moved to get some socks out of my drawer. "But it's only for a couple of weeks. I'll be fine."

"Good, good," he said absentmindedly. Staring out the window. Something about him seemed…off. Unusual. He was quiet and the way that he stood was just…different. I couldn't quite figure out what it was. He just seemed…detached.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He didn't turn around to face me. "I'm fine; just worried about you."

I smiled as I finished tying my left shoe. "I'll be okay." I stood up and went to kiss him quickly. He kissed me back, but it was strange…not like it usually was. It was like he was…forcing himself to do it.

I shuddered as I stepped away. "I love you."

"Love you, too," I heard him reply softly as I walked out the door.


	30. Chapter 30

**Okay, so, I would just like to say that this story is almost over. (I know, I know, it's sad.) But, mostly, I just wanted to point out to those of you that may have been doubting, that I have had this planned for a while and I always knew exactly how I wanted it to end. So, with that being said: I hope you enjoy this chapter! Things are drawing to a close.**

30.

It was getting tedious, I had to admit. Waiting was one of the hardest things that a spy could do. But, my partner for the mission – a thirty-one-year-old man by the name (or maybe cover name) of Bart Riddle – was trying to keep it interesting enough. I had kicked his butt at checkers and he had retaliated by kicking my butt at chess. We had played War, Go Fish, Solitaire, and even a little bit of poker together. After all, there was nothing else that was interesting to do. We had to just sit up in our hotel room and wait for further instructions.

I sighed as I put down my hand. "I hate waiting."

Bart smiled and ran a hand through his grayish brown hair. "The young ones never do have much patience."

"I have _tons_ of patience," I corrected him, yawning. "I'm going to take a shower and then go down to the lobby to pick up the food that we ordered."

He nodded. "I'll be up here. Probably playing Solitaire. Again."

I laughed and stood to move into the bathroom. I took a long shower and thought about the past few days' events. Not much had happened, actually, on the mission. Bart and I had met with the arms dealers – undercover, of course – and we had done a lot of sitting around in the hotel room.

The most interesting piece of news, however, was that I had gotten on a secure Internet connection long enough to check my phone records. And I had discovered that no one had tried to call me that morning that I left for the mission. The morning that Brian had been going through my phone.

So why had he lied to me? What had he really been doing? Did he think that I was cheating on him and was trying to find proof? Was he trying to check my phone Internet history? Was he reading my text messages or looking at my Apps? What had he been doing?

Obviously, I had no clue; and it bothered me.

I stepped out of the shower and squeezed the excess water out of my hair. Quickly, I threw on jeans, a light blue blouse that fit me rather snugly, and I pulled on some black flats. I towel dried my hair for a couple of minutes before pulling it into a messy bun and I didn't bother with makeup.

I walked back out into the hotel room and saw that Bart was, indeed, playing Solitaire. I smiled. "Aren't you sick of that game yet?"

He shook his head. "I'll never be sick of Solitaire. Never,"

"Never say never."

He rolled his eyes. "Go get our food, girl."

I pretended to be deeply offended. "Don't tell me what to do!"

He looked at me. "I'm sorry. Who's in charge of this mission?"

"The CIA Director," I replied, smirking in that signature Goode way.

He narrowed his deep brown eyes at me. "Was that a witty remark?"

"_I _thought it was witty," I replied with as mile. "You might not have."

"Go get the damn food," he said, pointing to the door.

"Bossy, bossy, bossy," I said, marching towards the door. "I'm asking them to put extra peanuts in your cookies."

"I'm allergic to peanuts!" he called.

I laughed. "Duh!"

The walk down to the lobby was short – yes, I took the stairs (Come on! I hadn't gotten out much lately!) – and when I got there, I found our deliveryman waiting. I exchanged some small talk with him because the only interaction I'd had for the past few days was with Bart and I needed to talk about something other than Solitaire or the perfect chess strategy. He gave me the food and I thanked him before heading back to the room – using the stairs, of course.

I knocked on the door so that Bart could let me in, but he didn't answer. I groaned. "I know you're doing this on purpose, Bart, making me dig out my damn key. I should spill your food to do it." But, I didn't spill the food as I got my key out of my pocket and unlocked the door. I stepped inside, closing the door behind myself and setting the food down on the small bar in the kitchen unit. "Thanks for that, Bart. I have the food; no peanuts!"

He didn't answer.

"Ugh, Bart, come on!" I called as I pulled out my own food and took a bite. "You can't be _that_ absorbed in that stupid Solitaire game."

I headed for the living room area. "This is ridiculous. I'm not bringing your food to you, so you can forget- OH MY GOD!"

Bart was on the floor, playing cards spilled out all around him, some of them soaked with the blood that was flowing from his head. There had been a definite struggle, I could tell. The table was turned over and the couch looked like it had been scooted back several inches. The lamp was knocked over and Bart's shirt was rumpled, his hair crazy.

"Bart!" I ran to him and reached for a pulse, trying. There was no pulse. He was dead.

And then, something hit the back of my head. I had been so absorbed in Bart's appearance that I hadn't bothered to focus on the fact that the killer could still be in the hotel room.

My head hit the ground and I felt numb all over, feeling myself slipping out of consciousness. The last thing that I saw before I blacked out completely was Nate's face, smirking.


	31. Chapter 31

31.

My head was pounding and I moaned softly as I came to, realizing that my body was terribly sore, especially my head. It felt like someone had taken a sledge hammer to it and – when I thought about it – maybe that's what happened. I wouldn't have been surprised, to tell you the truth.

Before I opened my eyes, I did everything necessary. To assess the damage, I began listing random facts about myself and remembered everything I could about my mission. Then, I tried to figure out where I was. I was lying face down on some type of hard surface – it felt like cement under my hands. I felt like I was still wearing the same clothes that I had been wearing. I wondered how long I had been out.

I figured it had been the arms dealers that had captured me. How had they gotten suspicious, though? Mine and Bart's covers were perfect and we kept them very well; not a single mistake. And then, I remembered seeing Nate smirking at me as I blacked out.

_Nate_.

He was still alive and he had come to kill me. He was a psychopath and he wanted me dead.

_But, wait a second_, a reasonable voice in the back of my head told me. _Nate's dead. You saw the body; there was no pulse. Your dad helped bury him. He's dead._

But, no, I had _clearly_ seen his face.

I decided to worry about it later. Sitting up was hard, but finally, I was on my butt on the cool concrete floor. It was then that I opened my eyes and immediately had to squint because the overhead fluorescent lights were far too bright. I blinked furiously until my eyes adjusted and then I looked around, though there wasn't much to see.

It looked like I was in some sort of empty warehouse, concrete floor, metal walls, and pipes running across the ceiling. There was absolutely nothing there that I could use to help myself escape and when I reached up for my ponytail to find my bobby pins, I found that they had been taken out. I gave a frustrated sigh and re-fixed my ponytail while I thought.

There was one metal door that had three locks on it and the only window was too high up to reach. No tools, no food, no water, no help. I tried to force my brain to come up with a way out of the situation, but it made my head hurt. By how blurry everything seemed, I figured I had a minor concussion.

No surprise there. Nate had hit me really hard.

_Wait._ Suddenly, everything was beginning to make sense. Why Brian had been going through my phone: to find out where my mission was. He had wanted to know so badly. And then, I remembered "Nate's" face before I blacked out. There had been a scar on his temple.

But Nate hadn't had a scar on his temple.

Brian.

And then I heard the sound of keys being inserted into locks and I got to my feet as quickly as my pounding head would allow. I felt a bit unsteady, but I also felt angry as hell, so it sort of balanced me out, so to speak.

And then Brian entered wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He looked so casual and calm as he ran a hand through his messy hair that I wanted to slap him, but I held my ground. He smirked at me coldly and my heart sank. It was him. "Finally awake, I see. Good. Have a nice nap?"

I nodded. "You hit me pretty hard. What did you use?"

"The top of a TV tray," he replied. "Only think efficient enough that I could find in that hotel."

"Seemed to get the job done."

He nodded and sighed. "Well, I suppose you've worked everything out."

"Actually, no," I replied, disappointed that I hadn't.

He looked surprised. "Really? What did they teach you to do at that Gallagher Academy of yours?"

"More than you'd think," I replied.

He shrugged and began to pace, hands behind his back. "So, what have you figured out thus far, then?"

"That you're the one that attacked me," I said.

"Obviously," he agreed, still pacing.

"And that you were going through my phone to try to find out where my mission was. And you wanted to know where my mission was so that you could attack me and bring me here." I gestured around at the empty warehouse. "Wherever _here_ is. I just don't know why."

He nodded slowly. "Well, I suppose I'll tell you, then. You'll be dead soon, anyway."

I felt cold, all of a sudden. "Dead?" I asked, gulping, my throat feeling tight.

He smiled kindly at me as if I had just told him that he was wearing a lovely sweater and he was about to thank me. "Why, yes. You really don't think that I could let you go now, could I? This has been my purpose all along, Layla."

"To…to kill me?" I asked. "That's been your purpose all along? Why?"

""It's quite unfortunate, actually," he said, still pacing. "You were just…there. And of course, it made it all the more better than you'd been involved with my dear brother."

"You've had plenty of opportunities to kill me before now," I said, still confused. "Why here; why now?"

"Well I couldn't very well kill you while we were living together, could I? Who would have been the prime suspect then? Me, of course. I wanted to escape suspicion, and this was quite perfect. I think I can pin it on the arms dealers quite nicely."

He wanted to kill me. I felt tears stinging my eyes. "Did you ever love me?"

He laughed as if I had just told the most amusing joke that he had ever heard. "No, you stupid, naïve girl. I can't _feel _love. I can't feel _anything_, actually."

"What?" I asked, and then things started to fall into place as fast as he was explaining it.

"Nate was never the psychopathic one," he said quietly, not looking at me as he continued to pace. "_I_ was. I was the manipulative one that was jealous of my perfect brother. _I_ tried to kill _him_ that night, but he was a much better fighter than I was and he managed to knock the knife out of my hand, cutting my temple in the process." He touched his scar absentmindedly, finally done pacing. He stared at the wall as if in a trance. "No, Layla, I never loved you. I don't even like you. I see emotions and I copy them. I'm the world's best actor."

"But…you said…Nate…"

"_I _was the one sent away," he said. "To an institution in Germany. I was never allowed to return home; my parents hated me. But while I was in Germany, I pretended to get better. A doctor discharged me. And I went looking for my dear brother. It was payback time, you see. It took me a while to figure out where he would be – I have contacts, you see – but finally, I heard about the mission your CoveOps class would be going on and I set the bomb."

I gasped in horror, slapping my hand over my mouth.

He sneered at me. "Yes, I killed your precious Nate. I'm a serial killer, Layla. It thrills me. It's what I do for fun."

Nate had really loved me. Nate had never been a liar.

Brian was the liar.

"And now," he said, pulling out a long, wicked looking knife from a sheath on his jeans. "I'm going to kill you, too."


	32. Chapter 32

32.

"You killed your own brother!" I shrieked. "You're sick!"

"I know," he answered calmly, looking at the knife as if he were checking his reflection. Maybe he was; I wouldn't know. "But just step in my shoes for a moment. I'm a psychopath, Layla. I don't feel emotion. So, basically, killing Nate was like killing…a rat or a bird or something."

"Nate was so much more than that!" I yelled. "He was sweet and gentle and he-"

But I was interrupted by Brian's laughter. He acted like I had told another insanely clever joke. But it was no joke. "Girls are so fickle, aren't they?" he laughed. "You were so ready to believe that Nate was a psychopath and that he had never really loved you. You fell in love with me so easily; and out of love with him."

I shook my head. "I honestly don't think that I ever fell out of love with Nate. I was just confused and you were so much like him…"

"But different, right? He was always better than me at everything…"

"That's no reason to kill him!"

"HE GOT ME SENT AWAY!" Brian roared. "FOR SEVEN YEARS!"

"You tried to _kill_ him!" I yelled back, though not as loud. My head hurt from his shout and I felt a little dizzy.

"You want me to tell you what happened that night?" he asked, his voice quiet again. He was looking down at his knife, absentmindedly running a finger over the curved edge of the blade. "I can tell you. After Nate beat me and knocked me to the ground, our parents came running in. Nate told them everything and all that I could do was sit there and listen as he called me a horrible monster."

"You _are_ a horrible monster!" I said.

He pretended not to hear me. Or, maybe he really didn't. He seemed like he was in a trance again. "They sent me away immediately and all that I could think about the whole time that I was in that damned institution was finishing what I had started. I wanted to kill him _so_ badly; you have _no_ idea. So, I pretended to be getting better. Like I said, I'm the world's best actor. The doctors believed me. So they discharged me. And I went looking for Nate."

"You killed more than just Nate," I said quietly, looking away from him and down at the ground. "You killed a lot of innocent people that day, Brian. Children, women, even _infants_. _Infants_, Brian. They never even had a chance."

The indifference on Brian's face made me want to rip his eyes out. "The more, the merrier. Like I said earlier, it's _fun_ for me, Layla. I _like_ watching people die."

"You're sick!" I yelled as my stomach churned. "You're a sick monster!"

"If that's what you want to call it." He looked up at me. "I saw him, you know. Right before he died."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Nate," he added. "I saw him. I could tell he was about to die and I wanted to be there while it happened. I wanted to see the light leave his eyes; to know that he was really dead."

My hands clenched themselves into fists and suddenly, my head didn't hurt near as much as it had before. My anger was making it impossible for me to feel any pain. Brian had lied to me. He had come in when I was vulnerable and made me trust him; he'd made me hate the man that I had loved. His own brother.

He continued talking; now pacing again. "He saw me too. He looked right at me and I could see him trying to say something, but I couldn't hear him. I moved closer and leaned down, surprised that there was no anger in his eyes. Finally, I was close enough. You know what he said to me?" He looked at me then, waiting.

I shook my head, knowing that if I opened my mouth, I would yell. And I was a little bit curious. What had Nate said to the brother – the twin – that he knew was killing him.

Brian was looking right at me. "He said 'I never hated you, you know. I forgave you a long time ago'."

It was so much like Nate that I felt tears well up in my eyes. "You see," I said quietly, trying my best not to choke on my tears. "He cared about you, even though he knew that you were killing him. He was a hundred times the man that you are!"

Brian shrugged. "Yeah, he always was. I don't care anymore. He's dead now."

Dead. I got flashes then – flashes of Nate. Him sneaking into my room to kiss me in the middle of the night, him proposing to me, him sitting with me after I had been whipped. Him holding me in his arms that night after I had finally given him all of myself. And I was glad that I had. "You're a horrible person," I said, a tear sliding down my cheek. "Look, I know what it's like to feel like you have to live up to people. My mom and dad are two of the best spies that the CIA has ever had. I know what it's like to be known by them: 'Zach's daughter' or 'Cammie's little girl'. I know, Brian. I know. But this is your choice; all of it. There comes a time when you have to decide to make your own name; be your own person. What name do you want to make for yourself, Brian?"

"That was a nice little speech," he sneered. "But you're still going to die."

The next moments happened so fast that I almost didn't register them. Something about him just seemed…off as he charged towards me, knife extended. All of my anger over him killing Nate spilled over and I moved quicker than I ever had before. I spun to the side and kicked him harder than I had ever kicked before. He dodged and made a move to lash out with the knife, but I grabbed his arm and used all of my strength to flip him, sending him sailing through the air.

And then he didn't get up and I saw the blood flowing out from under his body, soaking into his white T-shirt. I gasped, jumping back with my hand over my mouth. He was dead. I had killed him. And it had taken less than a minute.

I sank to my knees, overcome with too many emotions to do anything else. "I'm so sorry, Nate," I sobbed. "I'm so sorry. So sorry."

And I knew that, had he been there, he would have forgiven me.

"I love you," I said. "Even now. And I know you loved me, too. I'm so sorry."

And I could almost see him smile and say '_I love you, too_'.


	33. Chapter 33

**Well, this is it. The last chapter. I must say, I have sincerely enjoyed writing this story and I really wish that I could write a sequel to it, but I just don't see how that would work lol. Thank you so much to my readers and I really hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. **

33.

"And that's the full story?" the man with salt and pepper hair asked, eyeing me with somber brown eyes.

"Yes," I replied. The voice stress analyzer made noise. I wasn't lying. I had been telling my story for three full hours, answering all sorts of questions and now, it seemed, I was done.

He nodded and stood, beginning to unhook the wires from me. "Very well. You may go, Miss Goode." Never had I felt so wonderful to be called a Goode. Something about it just felt right.

"Thank you," I said as I stood and walked out the door. My head felt loads better from the medication they had given me before I'd been forced to debrief and I didn't feel the least bit sleepy. I reached up to re-fix my ponytail and had just tied it when I was pulled into a tight hug. My mother's voice said, "Thank God you're okay!" and I could smell her overbearing perfume.

"Cammie, let her breathe," my dad's voice said softly.

My mom stepped away from me, smiling sheepishly, and I saw everyone else. My mom, dad, Grandma and Grandpa Morgan, and Uncle Solomon and Aunt Abby. My dad was close to me, looking at me and telling me silently that I got to initiate any moves, any conversations. He knew what it was like to come back from a mission and he knew what it was like to see things or know things that you really wish you didn't. He'd been through it all and he would be able to help me through it.

"I'm sorry, Dad," I said honestly. "I'm sorry for everything."

He smiled at me. "Me too."

I ran into his arms and he held me tightly. Something about the familiar smell of him comforted me and I cried silently against his light blue polo. I could hear my mom talking with her parents about how she and dad were going to move me back into their house for a while and Uncle Solomon and Aunt Abby were talking about me, wondering about my wellbeing. My spy-trained ears picked up everything.

When I pulled away, I asked, "Can I talk to you alone for a sec?"

My dad nodded and gestured to the empty hall. We headed down towards the end, both of us ignoring the looks we were getting, and when we reached it, he faced me and looked at me with concern. "You alright?"

I shrugged. "Just a concussion. I'm fine."

He nodded slowly. "What happened?"

And then, I told him everything. It took me less time that it had taken to tell the guy that debriefed me, and yet, my dad and I had to move to sit down on a bench because it took nearly half an hour. The rest of the family had gone away, presumably to the cafeteria or maybe home. I didn't care.

After I finished my tale, my dad asked, "So it's over now? Both of them are dead?"

"I guess so," I said, feeling pain for Nate all over again. "I should have listened to you," I told him honestly. "I should have listened to everyone when they were telling me that I was fragile. I shouldn't have let him in so easily."

"We all make mistakes," my dad said easily, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his chest. "I've made more than I can even begin to count and so has your mother. Your grandparents have, too, I know, and even your Aunt Abby and Uncle Solomon. All spies make them."

"This was a huge one," I muttered.

He let em sit upright again and then he said, "Look at me."

I blinked back tears and then our identical eyes found each other. "Layla Alana Goode, you're not stupid. You're a _very_ intelligent young lady that made a mistake. But, you know what? You're strong, and I know that you'll pull through this. And you have a wonderful mother, amazing grandparents, an eccentric aunt, and a very wise uncle to help you through this. And, best of all, you have a wonderfully amazing – not to mention humble – dad. I'm always here for you, kiddo. No matter what."

I let the tears run down my face as he pulled me in for another hug. Everything that he had said was true and I knew that. I wasn't stupid; I had just made a mistake. And that mistake would make me stronger and next time, I would be ready.

"I'm so proud of you," he said as I pulled away and sat up. "You know that, right? I've always been proud of you."

"Always?" I asked, remembering the times that I'd lied to him or the times that I had yelled at him in anger.

He smiled and nodded. "Disappointed sometimes, maybe. But I've always been proud of you. And I've always loved you more than anything else in my life. You're my only daughter and you're my world. You and your mother. You know that, right?"

I smiled. "Yeah, Dad. I know that."

He kissed my forehead quickly. "Good." Then, he stood. "We should get going. I bet your mother went on home and we should meet her there."

I stood with him and we began walking towards the exit. We were almost there when I said, "It's happened, you know."

"What's happened?" he asked, glancing at me as we stepped off of the elevator.

"What I've wanted to happen all along," I said nonchalantly, heading for the sliding doors.

"And what would that be?"

I looked at him as if surprised that he hadn't figured it out. "You don't think that everyone's going to be talking about this for years to come?"

He stopped, his expression portraying his confusion. "Well, yes, of course they are. What you went through, what you did…it's pretty amazing."

"Good," I smiled. "That means that I've made my name."

"Your whole purpose was to make a name?" he asked with a smirk.

"Not just any name," I corrected as I watched a group of three women watching me, obviously whispering about me. I looked back at my dad and gave him the signature Goode smirk. "_My_ name."


End file.
